Nothing Like Romeo And Juliet
by Mysterious Loser
Summary: -'This isn't Romeo and Juliet,' Virgil thought, bitterly. 'We're supposed to hate each other.' But here she was, tending to his wounds, and talking to him like he was her best friend. He would never understand her. VirgilFebronia Spoilers for Xenosaga III
1. A Soldier Named Luis Virgil

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Xenosaga, Virgil, Febronia, the cast, etc, etc…But I DO own Curtis and Derek. For one chapter. XD

**A/N:** I'm surprised that I haven't seen more on Virgil and Febronia, but maybe that's just me. They're two of my favorite characters in Xenosaga (even better as a couple), and Xenosaga III made their little scenes together such a tear-jerker. Anywho, I thought I'd try my hand at retelling their story using the script and then adding in some of my own bits and pieces. Oh, and, by the way, it can get pretty violent in this story, but if you've played Xenosaga, I'm sure that that's nothing new. Still, if it bothers you, turn back now.

Starts from right before Shion and her groupies meet up with Virgil. Xenosaga has so much information, it's hard to make correlations. So if anything seems out of place with Virgil, his knowledge, lack of knowledge, etc…let me know. :-D

Let me know what you think!

**Nothing Like Romeo and Juliet**

**Chapter One**

He was nervous, just like he assumed that the rest of his comrades who were already in the city were. His anxiety wasn't the result of knowing that their low profiled vehicle was inevitably going to stop soon, or the thought of having to engage in battle against the dogs of U-TIC. He found that he couldn't even ride in his seat properly; his bottom edged up against the lining of the chair where the two seams met and folded over one another. He was peering over the seat in front of him, staring as two of his comrades passed a cigarette back and forth to each other.

He drummed his fingers against the leather of the seat he was looking over. Against his ears he could hear the almost silent hum of the motor and feel the rigid bumps beneath the tires, and his body gently bounced up and down against the turbulence. His comrades weren't talking, but instead were using the universal language of the hands to communicate. He figured that it was because everyone was too afraid to talk. It was no secret that in several days, Miltia would be reduced to nothing more than rubble and dust.

"Hey, let me have a drag." Luis Virgil leaned further over the seat in front of him and reached out for the cigarette. His two companions turned to stare at him. One of them was smiling.

"This is your first year in the Federation Marine Corps, isn't it, Virgil?" Curtis, four years Virgil's senior in rank, asked, handing over the cigarette.

Virgil took the cigarette and put it between his lips. He was eighteen, going on nineteen, and knew he could've passed for a twenty-six year old instead. He had more brains than most of the soldiers in the Federation, and his superiors weren't hesitant to tell him so. Indeed, it was his first year in the military, but he could pilot an A.M.W.S. like he had been doing it for years. There wasn't much to him that couldn't already be explained in his skillful techniques. His father had been a Federation soldier, as had his grandfather. Everything he knew, he attributed to them teaching him. They both had died fighting for their lives, but Virgil was determined to change his fate.

However, he knew he should've kept his mouth shut when the recruiters came by. He hadn't been debriefed about the mission at hand when he first signed up, but after he had, he wasn't sure if his first choice had been the best one. Although his other officers had recommended him specifically for the job, Virgil had never seen so many casualties before in his life. _They're just numbers. If you don't see the face behind the mask, then does it really make them human?_

He stole a long drag from the end of the smoking stick and pulled it away, blowing away the thin haze from his face. _I don't need to think about this now._

"Yeah," he replied to Curtis' question, giving a dry chuckle. "It is."

"Heh," Derek's eyes trailed back to Curtis, the ends of his lips turning upwards in a smirk. "You must be a pretty good soldier to be able to land a position in the Federation's Second and Third Descent operations. Only the most skilled soldiers were recruited." Shaking his head, Derek added, "The Third Descent will be happening here in a matter of days. Are you prepared for it?"

"That's gonna be the operation that ends all operations, right?" Virgil asked, handing back the cigarette. Curtis received it and put it to his own lips.

"Yeah," Derek replied. "Our role is to infiltrate the city on the east end and meet up with the main unit there. After that, we wait for our orders to storm the streets and overtake the Acute Neurosis Treatment Facility."

"So…That's where _it_ is being held?" The cigarette was still hanging out of Curtis' lips, making it almost difficult to hear what he was asking. "Who would've known?"

Virgil sat back in his chair, tuning out the other two. He made a point to stare out the window to ease his nervousness. The outdoors usually calmed him. No matter how hardcore he appeared, he was still human with a heart on the inside. The military wasn't even enough to take away his dignity. He still wasn't accustomed to taking another human's life yet. This mission itself was the first real crackdown against the U-TIC organization that he had to be a part of. Despite how brilliant of a man he was or how skilled his superiors thought him to be, the idea of destroying one planet was still weighing heavily on his mind.

Propping his chin on the flat of his palm, he stared at Curtis and Derek, who were talking about something else that was completely unrelated to their mission. He envied how composed they could be during such a mission, even if it was just a façade. The Second Descent hadn't been as bad as what was being planned next, but many of Virgil's comrades had already met their grizzly end. Most of their enemies had been the U-TIC marines themselves, but when they wanted someone else to do their dirty work, that's when they'd send out the Realians.

Virgil had always been taught in the Federation Military that Realians were built to serve humans and that their main objectives were to kill everyone and everything. They would even attack children if necessary. It was hard to refute this claim when he watched many of his friends that he had known since high school and comrades he had met in the military die before him by the hands of these creations. He had seen these Realians fight and he had seen these Realians kill. The more he thought about them, the angrier he became. Curtis and Derek were the last two he had met solely in the military to be on this mission. If they died, he would be all alone.

Curtis was a stocky brunette who was four years higher in rank than Virgil and almost seven years older. The two had met in training for this particular mission and became friends in those short few weeks. He smoked like a fiend and was always trying to foist the habit on Virgil. Every time he'd light up, he'd try to get the younger man to take a drag. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes it didn't. Virgil had never been big on the idea of smoking, but there was the need to relax every once in a while when things got tough. Although Curtis was a great A.M.W.S. pilot and a brilliant tactician, he was too laid back in the younger man's eyes. Some things he should've taken more seriously he chose to be lax in. Virgil knew, deep down, that that would be his ultimate downfall.

As for Derek, he was a man with a dark complexion, and a deeper understanding of the situation at hand. He was extremely bright and knowledgeable in his field. He was also the commanding lieutenant of the unit. Virgil met him through Curtis a little while back when the plan for the Second and Third Descents were leaving the infant stages. He had seen many battles, and Virgil surmised that his cool, collective behavior attributed to that fact._ Once you've seen it all, I wonder if there's really anything left to be surprised about…_Deep down, Virgil wasn't exactly sure he wanted to know the answer to that question.

His thoughts were interrupted when the car came to a sudden halt and he was jerked forward. He caught himself on Derek's seat.

"Woah, men," Derek stood up and looked to Virgil and then Curtis. "This here is just a pit stop. Take a breather while I calculate our surroundings and try to contact the main unit."

"Gotcha," Curtis grinned, finishing off his cigarette. "We'll scout ahead and meet back in ten. That all right with you, Lieutenant?"

"It's fine," Derek replied, staring at the driver. "Keep in mind our current location so you can come back without delay."

"You talk to me like I haven't done this before," Curtis said, but his tone was playful. "We'll be back in ten."

He stood up, stretched his back, and moved towards the door, sliding it open. It resounded with a screech as metal rubbed viciously against metal, and he hopped out. Virgil followed him from behind. Taking a look at his surroundings, Virgil kept the most important land features in mind.

The large vehicle had parked in the middle of a clearing, trees abundant from all sides, giving them a boundary to look to. The sky could be seen if Virgil looked directly upwards, but it was harder to look beyond the horizon without his vision being blocked by heavy limbs full with leaves. It was almost a cloudless day with a bright blue tinge staring back at him. Everything was incredibly green here, as though nothing malignant had ever interloped upon it to destroy its beauty.

Virgil was knee-high in fresh blades of grass, and he could smell their liveliness as the wind brushed by. He lifted his legs high in order to march forward behind Curtis, and he looked once back at the vehicle. Derek was still inside.

"Come on now, Virgil. You heard the Lieutenant. Let's make this fast." Curtis was already tapping away at his communicator, several screens popping up that showed pictures of their current position.

It was only a moment or two before the two broke through the barrier of trees and wandered into the forestry. Virgil knew that they were treading upon enemy territory, and he inattentively held his breath to keep from being noticed by others. He was startled a few times when songs from birds broke the silence between him and his comrade, and when other inhabitants of the forest roamed back and forth from tree, to log, to bush.

It didn't help that after he had become distracted, he was tripping over his own two feet, getting entangled by vines, and stumbling over large tree roots that had emerged above the surface of the ground. The light had also dimmed by the shadows of the trees above them. Virgil glanced up and realized that he couldn't even see the sky anymore, save a few patches in between limbs and leaves.

Curtis kept his eyes glued to the screen, but was able to successfully maneuver around without crashing into bushes and falling into ditches, unlike poor Virgil. He wandered around a bend, hugging a rocky cliffside closely, and ventured further down the forest path, which had opened up to a sizable distance that contained fewer roots and plants blocking the way.

Virgil had to swat several times at mosquitoes and large flies, but Curtis seemed too busy with his work to notice them. He cringed once when a horsefly bit him on the back of the neck. _This is what it's all about, though. There's no use complaining._ He bent down to pull broken blades of grass that had gotten trapped inside of his military boots. Tossing them aside, he quickened his pace behind Curtis. The brunette finally pulled his eyes from his communicator screen and looked up to gaze upon a shallow valley.

Virgil stopped in beside him, shoving his hands into his pockets and exhaling deeply. Only a few feet below them was another forest path, leading into a thicket that couldn't determine what was on the other side. Large plants lined the flowing pathway, abundant with multicolored flowers and heavy bushes. A bulky tree sat far back, its branches looming with the immense weight caused by the mountainous gathering of leaves.

A new scent caught his attention as the wind flowed by and he turned his head to the right. There, he saw, was a rather full bush plentiful with red, ripe berries. They seemed almost perfect, most coming in a natural round shape with just a perfect tinge of white from the reflection of light coming from up ahead. Looking at them made him realize how hungry he was.

"Location confirmed," Curtis' voice broke the long silence, causing Virgil to whirl his attention around to the open communicator. "We are approximately two-hundred and forty kilometers from the back gate stationed by unit one. They'll be awaiting our arrival so that we can head into the city and rendezvous with the main unit. Any questions?"

"Yeah. About how long will that be if we take all of these back routes? You know we can't take the main path because of all the security from U-TIC." Virgil cleared his throat, realizing that the fresh air was becoming a little too much for him. He hadn't been outdoors in a real forest for quite some time.

"Heh," Curtis closed his communicator and stuffed it into his pocket. "That's a good question. We'll have to ask the Lieutenant about that one." Withdrawing his infamous pack of cigarettes and lighter, his other hand plucked out a white stick and held it in between two fingers. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting hungry."

"Way beyond that," Virgil chuckled. It felt good to laugh. Nothing much was funny these days. "I wonder if there's anything good in the city to eat, eh?"

"Well, along with Derek's map of Miltia, it's pretty good about having landmarks and rest places. We'll take a look when we get back to the vehicle." Lighting his cigarette and pushing his box and lighter back into his pocket, Curtis turned to stare at his companion. "Say, what we were discussing back in the van…"

"Yeah?"

"I didn't realize that you weren't a transfer."

Virgil looked at the other man awkwardly and folded his arms over his chest. "No, this is my first year."

"You never told me that."

"You never asked." Then, giving a soft bout of laughter, Virgil added, "My old man and his old man were in the Federation Marine Corps until the day they died. I learned a lot from them, so I guess you could say I got my training from the real deal."

"Man, I'm looking forward to when my term is up…" Curtis flicked away the ashes from the end of his cigarette. "The only reason I'm here is so that I could get away from my disciplinarians for parents." He paused for a moment. "Why did you join then?"

"Had to make a living," Virgil answered honestly. "Mom can't do much on her own, and I'm all that she's got left. With my being here, she gets more money than she could earn from her local job."

"Ha, you're such a saint," Curtis joked. "Guess that's what separates us, right, Virgil? I can't stand my parents."

Virgil turned away, watching a pair of chipmunks scurry into the bushes below. "To be honest, I don't mind being here. It gets my mind off of the real things in life. And besides, piloting an A.M.W.S ain't so bad either."

"You must be a real good pilot to get assigned to a mission like this," the smoking brunette commented. "Heck, even _I_ was lucky to get here."

"You, Curtis?"

"Yup. In all actuality, Derek told me that the Federation wouldn't take any lower than a Sergeant for this mission. I'm not even that yet."

"It's no big deal," the blonde man shrugged. "What matters is what's about to take place here, right?"

"Yeah," Curtis agreed. "In a matter of days, the Third Descent is going to happen and our attempt to seize Labyrinthos will finally become a reality. There are just a few more things to figure out." He grinned, "The U.R.T.V.s for example."

"That's right, what are they going to be used for again?"

Taking another long puff from his cigarette, Curtis waited a moment before replying, "The objective of the U.R.T.V.s is to cut the connection between the A.M.W.S. belonging to the U-TIC organization as well as the Zohar."

"The Zohar," Virgil echoed softly. "That's their dependency for their power, right?"

"Yup. Anyway, the U.R.T.V.s are responsible for detaining U-DO. Ya know, that thing that's supposed to be main mechanism for controlling the Zohar."

"I see…" Virgil looked back to the shallow valley, chewing on his bottom lip. "Hey, Curtis?"

"Yeah?"

"…Have you given thought as to what may become of this planet if this gets taken too far?"

"Hmph," the brunette smirked, holding the cigarette to his lips again. "Coming from you, that's an odd thing to ask. Just the other day, I remember you saying that you could care less what happens to the planet."

"I said that I could care less what happens to those heartless monsters that try to pretend to be humans!" Virgil spat back, as though the subject was touchy. And indeed it was. "I watched my friends **die** to those Realians and their cold and calculating machinations! As far as I'm concerned, my highest priority in this mission is to exterminate them until the last one falls dead at my feet!" Growling, Virgil turned his back to Curtis. "_They're_ the ones I could care less about. They're nothing more than filthy sacks of flesh that make my skin crawl. Even _talking_ about them now makes me want to take a shower."

He could hear Curtis chuckle. "You know, Virgil, I've never seen you get this jumpy over a single species. One minute you're calm and collective, and the next moment, you're a fiery torch being waved around. I mean, sure, I can understand how you feel. A bunch of my friends were slaughtered by Realians." There was a short pause before he added, "Of course, my other friends were killed by soldiers, too. Soldiers…just like us."

"It's not the same!" the blonde retorted, his voice becoming sharp like a saw's edge. "You don't _get_ it. Humans are capable of feeling pain. Realians have no remorse when they murder women and children." Whirling around to stare Curtis down, he said, "My father was _killed_ by those things during a start-up test. They turned on their own masters and _killed_ them."

Curtis said nothing after that, though he continued to gaze into Virgil's heated eyes. It took a moment for Virgil to realize what he had just said and he tore his attention away to stare at the ground in shame.

"I'm…sorry I said that," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's my pain to deal with, not yours."

"Don't worry about it," Curtis dropped his half burnt cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with the sole of his boot. "You needed to vent. We all do. While I may not agree with you, I know that you have your own feelings to tackle. I'm not going to reprimand you for that." Then, adding a smile, "Just let the Lieutenant do that instead."

"Yeah," Virgil forced himself to chuckle, though it came out dry and bitter. He was still angry. The thought of Realians made him _angry._ He couldn't expect Curtis to understand. He couldn't expect _anyone_ to understand.

Realians weren't exactly a _new_ thing. They had been around for a little while. After all, his father had died when he was twelve. His mother called it a "freak accident," but Virgil just called it "murder." Since then, there had been a deep seeded hatred for those _things_ called "Realians." Whenever he had seen one on the street, he thought of his father. When he had met the platoon of them in the Federation Military, he thought of how his father had most likely pleaded for his life. He thought of all the pain his father had probably gone through and how those things called "Realians" didn't even give his father's life a second thought.

For as long as Virgil had known about the army, the battle was always with U-TIC and _always_ involved Realians. For the whole first year of being in the military, Virgil watched many of his friends fall by the dozens during battle with Realians. His friends, comrades, and even superiors all died the same way. The more the Realians took from him, the more infuriated he became. He didn't want anymore of his friends and comrades to die by their hands. And if he was granted to power to do so, he would stop every Realian in his way.

They couldn't feel, couldn't love, couldn't feel regret…They could kill children without thinking twice. Women were no exception either. Innocent civilians who were caught in the turmoil were more than probable victims. The Realians lived to kill and they would kill if they could.

"I guess I can't blame you," Curtis broke Virgil from his trance. "I think it's time to head back now."

But before the two could turn around, they were deafened by gunshots and loud explosives. The world around them shook and they fought for their balance as their mind sought to understand what was going on. The quake only lasted for a moment, but it gave enough time for a large flock of screeching birds to evacuate from the trees that both Virgil and his comrade had just come from. A plume of smoke rose upwards into the sky, far from where the two stood, and it wasn't long before the smell of burning rubber was carried upon the wind.

"Something's gone on…" Curtis mumbled. "For us to be smelling rubber and metal this quickly…that explosion was a part of the aftermath, _not_ the _beginning_ of an attack! Derek!" Quickly leaving Virgil behind, the brunette darted into the forest, screaming for his friend as he jumped upon a protruding rock, and pulled himself over the side of the cliff. A moment later, Curtis was gone.

A dumbfounded Luis Virgil was left standing by himself, face pale and eyes wide. For some reason, he was out of breath, too. "C-Curtis…" he whispered, and then realized that he was all alone in the middle of nowhere. "Curtis!" He sprung back into the forest, lifting his legs high, and sprinted up the mountain after his comrade.

_What just happened!? Where did Curtis go!? Were we…Were we ambushed…?_ Losing stamina fast, Virgil could feel his chest begin to burn. He wasn't out of shape, but the uphill climb was beginning to wear on him. He wasn't even sure of where he was going. _I wish I had paid more attention to our location rather than the broad surrounding of it…_ He skidded to a halt when the forest path divided and his mind began to reel in reverse to see if he could actually remember if he had come this way before.

_I…I don't think so. I don't remember this path. Did we…did we turn another way?_ He spun around in a circle, panting heavily, and his eyes sought desperately for the form of his companion. "_Curtis!_" he screamed into the open sky.

The heart inside of his chest ceased to beat when another round of gunshots echoed in the trees, driving off more squawking birds. _Where did those come from?_ He tried to pull himself together, stepping back to observing the black haze that was rising into the sky. _Northwest of my position. All right, I'm headed that way!_ Leaping over a set of thick bushes, Virgil nearly tripped over his legs during his landing. Catching himself and rising to an erect position, he looked back for a moment to view his small victory before pushing his body into an intense sprint.

Giving a sharp jerk to the right, he rounded the large rock that he vaguely remembered passing from before, and pulled himself up the hill, despite the protests from his aching muscles. He crossed over the forest path and back into the knee-length blades of grass, nearly swimming through certain overgrown patches in order to get back to where he had started. Some of the grass had already been greatly trampled, but Virgil wasn't for certain if that had been done by Curtis alone or when the two had ventured out this way the first time.

Nevertheless, he followed the blazed path through the meadow of hazel colored wheat and evergreen grass. His mouth ran dry from allowing his lips to hang open to grab twice the air that his nostrils could not intake. His legs were numb and his chest was sore. His heartbeat felt like a hammer, pounding at his ribs. Even his throat was stinging from the rapid air being inhaled and then immediately exhaled from his body. Coming to the edge of the meadow and breaking through the barrier of trees, Virgil spotted the military van that he had come on, but it was no longer in one piece.

The smoke that he and Curtis had seen came from their vehicle, a large fire erupting from within. Several blonde men in red uniforms sported guns in both hands, and were circling the van looking for something…or someone. Virgil stood there at the boundary of the clearing watching as his small unit had been overrun by these men. The van's front end had been completely torn away from the rest of the vehicle, which was where the fire had started in the first place.

All of the windows had been smashed in, and the van itself was dented all over, presumably from when the intruders had attempted to first get inside. It was too smoky inside the van to see if anyone else was still inside, and the grass was too tall to spot any bodies on the ground. The flames were quickly spreading, catching fire to the wheat and plants below. In a matter of minutes, a little less than half of the clearing would be engulfed in flames.

_What…What happened here?_ Virgil could not find the words to speak aloud. Even his thoughts were unorganized and scattered. He could not believe what he was actually seeing. _We were only gone for a moment! How could this happen!?_ He inattentively had begun to trudge forward, his eyes on the fiery van. Upon closer scrutinizing, he recognized the men as a battalion of Realians. _Realian scum!? __**They're**__ responsible for this!? How dare they…!_

Virgil was screaming. He had withdrawn his gun and was charging at the Realians, firing round after round into the body of the closest Realian. The U-TIC Realian finally dropped its gun and fell into the grass with a soft thud. All attention turned to Virgil. The blonde Federation soldier stopped, panting like his lungs were going to burst, and suddenly thrust his hand into his pocket in search for more bullets.

His eyes did not leave the five Realians, who were stalking closer and loading their own guns.

"I'll take you all to hell with me, you murdering, slimy, rat-sucking…" Something in the grass caught his attention and he looked towards the ground. There was the form of a body lying facedown in the field, the back covered in blood with evident holes in his clothes. Found only a few feet away was a Lucky 7s box with cigarettes scattered about.

Virgil's eyes burned with the image of his friend dead, as his knocking knees collapsed beneath him and he fell on top of Curtis Larson. Holding him by the shoulders, it became evident that the brunette was no longer breathing. Virgil closed his eyes, trying with all his might to hold back his anger. _He must've…come running up when all of this happened…and they turned and filled him full of lead. _"Curtis…" he whispered. "I'm…sorry…"

The sound of a cocking gun brought the blonde soldier back to reality. The Realians were above him, guns aimed in his direction, and their attention was solely on Virgil.

"Virgil, get back!" shouted a voice from the far off distance. Virgil whirled his head around, searching for whoever it was that knew him, and several gunshots sounded off, catching two of the Realians in their sides.

They fell, and the remaining ones looked right, grunting and growling amongst each other. There was a quick rustle in the grass, and a hand on Virgil's shoulder. He gazed heavenwards to recognize Derek above him, gun in hand.

"There's too many of them," the lieutenant observed. "We have to retreat into the trees."

"But, sir…!"

"Come on, Virgil!" Derek's grip was strong, and Virgil was too scatterbrained to argue anyway. There was so much to take hold of. His unit had been attacked, Curtis was dead, and Realians were swarming the area.

"Where are we going?" Virgil found himself asking. It was a stupid question, he realized, after he had said it.

"We're going to find another way into the city," Derek answered, jumping through the grass. The blonde man was following on his lieutenant's heels. They didn't have to run far before breaking through the boundary of trees that Curtis and Virgil had crossed through earlier. "Realians can transmit information from one unit to another. We have to stay off the main path!"

"What?" Virgil blinked, the command not hitting him quite the way he knew it should've.

Derek gave a quick jerk, grabbed Virgil's arm, and yanked him off to the side. He suddenly turned back and continued running. Not knowing what else to do, Virgil mirrored his movements, swerving over bushes, leaping over tree roots, and crossing underneath a fallen log that had been caught upon the ledges above. Rising back over the hill that was beyond the log, Derek paused to give a quick reconnaissance of the area, and Virgil could hear his breathing from far off.

Waiting for further orders, the blonde soldier took this small window of opportunity to reload his gun, withdrawing spare bullet straps from inside his uniform. His chest was rising with such a heavy, hollowed pain coming from strained lungs and burning muscles. Virgil knew that now was not the time, but that he would have to rest soon. He brushed his nose, attempting to rid it of the burning sensation that came from the cold air hitting his face as he ran.

He was unable to give a thorough examination of himself because Derek looked back a short while later to bid him to follow again. Though tired, Virgil could not protest. He took off through the remainder of the trees on the hilltop, and descended to the bottom, facing off against bushes and thick plants. Derek pushed them aside with both arms swatting at stray leaves, and Virgil was forced to do the same, though he tried to keep quieter while doing it than Derek was. He knew that the Realians did not give up a pursued search so easily.

On the other side of the bushes lay a level surrounding with shaved grass, most likely a result from an animal that had been commonly found grazing at this location, and fewer trees. It overlooked the main path, but Virgil found that he could run no more and his lieutenant was in much of the same state. The blonde soldier collapsed to his knees, leaning back against a tree for further support, and watched as Derek did the same.

"This…this isn't safe…" the lieutenant of the unit panted, coughing a bit.

"Yeah," Virgil agreed, tilting his head heavenwards in order to allow the air to move freely through him without having to feel pain in his muscles. "But…just for a moment, okay?"

He looked at Derek, whose eyes were scanning the ground, as though something interesting was to be found there. "Yeah," the dark haired man agreed. "Just for a moment."

Virgil couldn't help his wandering mind to think of all of the events that had just transpired. Curtis' death, the flames overtaking the van, and the enemy unit of Realians wandering around all burned images into his mind. He cursed himself for his earlier thoughts of Realians and losing friends. He wasn't a superstitious man, but somehow he felt as though those thoughts had led to a chain reaction, resulting in all of this.

The Realians had killed his friend. _Curtis…don't you see now why I feel the way I do? Perhaps if you had had a little more common sense, you'd be alive right now…_ He grunted, looking away from that trivial thought. It didn't matter now. Curtis was dead. He had been killed by those heartless machines. He had been killed just like his father and friends during the Second Descent had been killed. The pain was too much to bear. He hated Realians far more than he could ever imagine.

He hated them with such a burning passion that left his blood boiling like water on a stove…no…Like an erupting volcano, where the magma overflowed with such detestation all over his body, scarring his mentality entirely, but left a reminder of how much these machines had a piece of his withering heart. He wanted to take them by the neck and show them all that they had done to kill his kindness for them.

His face would reddened at the very thought of a Realian, and his hands would shake, often possessing something of hateful instrumental value, and he would quickly turn to rid the world of what had plagued it. Virgil _knew_ his mission—his sole purpose in being a soldier—was to rid this planet of the infectious disease known as "Realian."

Curtis had been brutally killed. So had his father. And the people of his unit had been inside that car when it had been set aflame. They had been burned alive. All the work of these Realians, who probably had never given his friends' lives a second thought. Virgil could feel his fists tightening and his chest hardening with such vicious thoughts. He had been powerless to save every single one of them, but he was still alive, and he could still carry out this mission—_his_ mission! The Realians would be killed, just like they should be. He would avenge their deaths with the deaths of their executioners.

Virgil would _make_ himself that executioner. He wouldn't stop until the very last of them were gone. This was no longer a mission to be taken lightly. This was his personal quest, a vendetta of sorts. He would make this a reality.

"Virgil, what's wrong?" Derek, from across the way, asked. "Your face looks like it's ready to explode."

"Those Realians," Virgil spat. "They killed Curtis…" His eyes shifted back in the direction that he knew his van was in. "They killed our troops!" Eyes glazed with such anger, Virgil stared his lieutenant down, pounding a fist into the grass. "How!? Derek, _how _did this happen!?"

"Virgil," Derek gave him a stern face before tearing his eyes away from the blonde soldier's. "It was our fault."

"_How!?_" he shouted, anger overwhelming him.

"Keep your voice down!" Derek hissed. All of a sudden, the anger fled Virgil, and he sat calmly back against the tree.

"Sorry…" he muttered.

"You _must_ learn to keep your anger in check! If you get angry, your eyes will be clouded and you won't be able to help anyone!" Virgil growled. Derek always _was_ full of lectures and strategic planning. When the lieutenant finally calmed himself as well, he said, "We were out in the middle of an open field. An enemy aircraft probably caught our signal overhead. By the time our driver spotted them, it was too late."

"What do you mean by that?" Virgil interrupted, refusing to believe that the cause of the Realians' heartless actions was the fault of his own soldiers.

"Our driver caught the life signals of the Realians, but they had home field advantage. The grass was thick enough for them to crawl through without being seen." Derek shrugged. "I thought that their signals were actually coming from underground rather than just there in the grass. It wasn't until after we saw them surround the van that we realized our error."

"You _made_ a mistake like _that!?_" Virgil couldn't believe it. It was unlike Derek to make such a silly error. "How could you…?"

"I know," Derek interrupted. "We locked the van and loaded our weapons. I went out first, feeling responsible for the enemy being able to get the upper hand. I hadn't trudged out far before I blown off my feet from an immaculate explosion."

"Immaculate?" Virgil asked. "That's such a way to put it."

"But it _was_ perfect," Derek shook his head. "No one saw it coming. Not even me. They had planted a bomb underneath the van, and detonated it after they were able to crawl quite some feet away. They did it all so fast and so quietly, no one would've suspected it."

Virgil looked down at his dirty boots, the reminder of _why_ they were so dirty haunting him. "What did you do?" he asked, almost below hearing audibility.

"I dashed into the forest, not really thinking clearly. Two of the Realians chased after me through the forest for quite some time. However, I was able to escape from them and came back to the burning van." Derek's face grimaced, a pang of guilt flashing through his eyes. "The Realians were still there, and I had just seen Curtis running up through the field."

"No…" Virgil shook his head, knowing what was coming next.

"I tried to grab his attention without giving away my own location for fear that the Realians still in the field would shoot us both. But Curtis was screaming and flailing his arms in such fright at the sight of the explosion."

"That's not like Curtis at all," Virgil protested, slightly skeptical of his lieutenant's story.

Derek straightened his back and looked at Virgil with such intensity. "You didn't really know Curtis all that well then, did you?"

"Huh?" the blonde soldier blinked, Derek's words striking him in an unusual way.

"Curtis always appeared cool and collective, but why was it do you think he had to smoke so much?" Derek didn't give Virgil the time to answer, "It was because Curtis was easily overwhelmed by his emotions. He always panicked at the first sight of an explosion or bloodshed."

"How do you expect me to believe that that was true!?" Virgil shouted, his own feelings getting the best of him.

"Because," Derek leaned in closer, but he wasn't shouting, "he was _my_ best friend. I'm the one who got him into the military in the first place. He was just like you—an incredible soldier, but couldn't keep his emotions under control." The lieutenant straightened his back, "That's how I know."

Virgil could feel his breath being snatched from right out of his lungs. Derek's words were sharp, like a knife, and cut deeply through him. He said nothing more for fear of what else Derek would say.

"Curtis came running up through the field, screaming, and I couldn't stop him," the dark haired man continued. "The Realians turned, aimed their guns, and—"

"I know…" Virgil couldn't bear to hear anymore. His heart was wrenching in untold pain. He just couldn't take it. "I showed up shortly afterwards."

"Yes," Derek agreed. "And the rest is history."

Both heads were diverted from each other when there came a rustle in the bushes.

"We've stayed idle for far too long," the lieutenant said, rising to his feet. Virgil did the same, using the tree behind him for support. "It's time to move on." He began on a short jog towards the edge of the small cliff.

Virgil jumped down first, immediately breaking into a run on the main path, and he looked over his shoulder briefly to see his lieutenant do the same.

A gunshot rang throughout the sky.

There was a sharp cry and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground resounded in Virgil's ears. He gave a quick jerk and turned his body back towards his lieutenant, who was now lying facedown in the dirt.

"Derek!" Virgil shouted, hurling his body to the other man's side. His eyes immediately caught sight of the blood coating Derek's pant leg.

"Gah…" Derek struggled to pull his face away from the ground and Virgil helped support him from the front. "I've been shot in the leg. I…I can't move."

"Give me your arm and I'll help you stand up," Virgil told him trying to throw his lieutenant's arm over his neck. Derek pulled back.

"Don't. I'll just get in your way." Falling back to the ground, Virgil watched him fish into his pocket and emerged with a balled fist. "Give me your hand," Derek commanded, the side of his face pressed against the dirt. Virgil obediently obliged.

Derek dropped something in his hand that was small, cold, and heavy. Virgil pulled his hand back to stare at a small key in his palm.

"Lieutenant…" Virgil breathed. "What's this?"

"It's the key to the old gate to get inside Labyrinthos. The…the main unit needs that key in order to infiltrate it." Putting a hand on Virgil's knee, Derek added, "I'm entrusting this to you, Virgil. You _must_ get this to the main unit!"

"Are you asking me to leave you behind!?" Virgil exclaimed. "I'm not going to _do_ that, Lieutenant! We can _still_ make it!"

"Don't be stupid," Derek said as the blonde soldier hastily put the key into his pocket. "I'll only slow you down. Now…get out of here!"

"Derek, I won't do that!" There was another gunshot and a stinging sensation overwhelmed Virgil as he clutched his right arm. _It's numb…My right arm is numb…!_ He tumbled to the ground, screaming into the sky.

His arm felt as though thousands of pins had been driven simultaneously into the flesh and a cool liquid was trailing through his fingertips that were clenching the skin so fiercely. His eyes seemed like they had been nailed shut when he closed them, and his muscles were on fire. His voice was hoarse and he was running short of breath. _I…I've been shot!_

"Those Realians," he barely heard Derek over his incredible wails. "They…were the ones that followed me. I can't believe…they're here now…"

There was the sound of boot on body, and there was a cry of pain coming from Derek. Virgil's eyes shot open, and he forced himself to sit up, still holding his bleeding arm. Two Realians were above Derek, kicking him in the side and beating him with the butts of their guns. Acting upon impulse, Virgil jumped up and attempted to tackle one of the Realians to the ground.

He missed, received a blow to the head, and a swift elbow strike to the mouth. Dazed, Virgil felt his body being tossed backwards to the ground, and another gunshot rang out. Again, Virgil could feel his body let out a terrible howl as his good arm moved to his side. _I…I can't believe this…I've been shot…again…_

He had no time to think about the pain when a blow came to his chest, knocking the wind from him and crushing his ribs. His body was violently overturned, and his face met the ground all too abruptly. Giving a heavy moan, he could feel the point of a gun meet with the flesh on the back of his neck.

"Stop it!" Virgil heard Derek's voice and another gunshot rang out.

The gunshot sounded different than that of the Realians' guns. The gun belonged to Derek, and he was up on his knees when Virgil found the strength to open his eyes and turn his head. Derek's aim was at the closest Realian to Virgil, but he had been unfortunate enough to miss.

"Derek…" Virgil wheezed, "You fool. You should've…You should've escaped…"

The furthest Realian doubled back, swinging the barrel of the gun upwards, like a baseball bat, into the jaw of Derek's face. The lieutenant was thrown from his knees and landed vehemently on his back, blood pouring from his mouth. He coughed and sputtered, slowly bringing his hands to his mouth to ease the pain. The Realian whose attention had been focused on Virgil joined the other Realian by Derek's side, beating him with the gun in his arms.

"Stop it!" Virgil cried out, forcing his body upwards onto his knees. He turned as Derek's body went sailing into the air and landed facedown once more. Virgil could do nothing more but watch his friend be beaten to near death, his own injuries rendering him immobile. The Realian who had aimed his gun at Virgil now placed the barrel to the back of Derek's head. "No! Stop!" Virgil screamed, nearly toppling forwards. He caught himself just in time to see the Realian pull the trigger, a gunshot reverberating in Virgil's ears, and Derek moved no more.

_It's so much to be expected…_ Virgil watched the Realians kick the body over to make sure that Derek was dead before turning their attention away from the corpse of his lieutenant and aiming their guns at him. _He gave his life to make sure that I survived. But…I can't move. Derek…_ Quickly withdrawing his own gun, he unsteadily aimed it at the Realians. They looked unconcerned with him. He cursed inwardly to himself.

"I can't die before I rendezvous with the main unit!" _Derek…Derek told me to meet with them…It can't end here!_ Suddenly, his eyes were unfocused on the Realians as a group of people charged down from the hill behind them. A young woman in her early twenties led the pack.

"Take that!" A fiery redhead dressed in black came out with guns blazing, taking down one Realian by surprise. A blonde Cyborg, which was unusual to see in days like these, skidded to a halt behind the small redhead, taking the second Realian behind the neck with one arm and using his other to break its neck.

Both Realians fell quickly and easily. It made Virgil somewhat disgusted that he could not have done something so easily himself. When the fight was over, the entire group stepped up to surround him. _People like these…they're dressed differently than what I'm used to seeing. Still…they could be spies!_

The woman stood before him, crossing her arms over her chest. She was a brunette with green eyes and silky features. Behind her stood the redhead and the Cyborg was to his right. Around her were several others, ones who ranged from a little girl in a red beret to an older man who carried a samurai sword. It didn't matter to Virgil. He wasn't going to be taken down by the likes of _them._

"And just who are _you_ supposed to be?" Virgil was panting hard, the loss of blood finally wearing him down. He wasn't sure if it was right to be grateful or not just yet. But it was his instinctive nature to be rude—especially to people he didn't trust. Finding the strength to withdraw his gun, he aimed it at the woman in front of him, trying his hardest to appear daunting and ferocious. "Drop…your weapons…!" Taking another breath, he added, "I'll shoot you if you don't follow—" _My side…My side!_

Dropping his own gun and doubling over in pain, he gave a loud moan and clutched his side. "Nghaa…" he clenched his teeth, feeling the blood rush between his fingers.

He heard the woman gasp and say, "It can't be!? Lieutenant Virgil!?"

_Lieutenant who? I'm barely an officer as of now!_ Virgil wasn't given the time to make a protest before the redhead gave the same reaction and looked back and forth between Virgil and the woman.

"Virgil? The Testament!?"

"Yes," the woman agreed. "He looks a little different, but there's no doubt it's him." Then, her eyes became unfocused from the boy and she looked back at Virgil. "But how?"

The blonde Federation soldier's eyes vacillated from the boy, to the woman, and then back to the boy. _They…they know me?_ "How do you know my—" _Gods! My side! I…_He doubled over again in agonizing pain.

"He's hurt," the woman said, observantly. _Great eyes you got there, lady. It only took you…Gah…!_ Virgil grimaced again and cursed underneath his breath. He heard her footsteps come nearer to him and he reached for his gun again.

"Don't touch me!" he shouted, aiming his pistol at her midsection. The woman jumped back in surprise more than in fear. Her face was resilient, and she placed her tiny hands upon her hips, looking annoyed.

Sighing, she said, "Don't move and let me treat your wound."

_Like hell I'm gonna…oh…gods…the pain…I can't see anymore…_ His gun dropping from his hand, Virgil could no longer keep up his strength to stay conscious. He felt his body tumble backwards and all went black.


	2. A Realian Named Febronia

**Disclaimer:** Yeah. Xenosaga would be nice to own. But I don't. And that sucks, because there are so many side-stories that NEEDED to be brought to light…COUGH Ziggy's story, not on some silly little cell phone that we American fans can't get a hold of COUGH.

**A/N:** Thanks to my reviewers! Glad to know at least someone is reading my story :-D I was asked why I decided to do the story from where Shion and her group came in rather than just how it actually happened. The reason for that is because of the way I'm writing the story. One chapter is from Virgil's point of view, and the next is from Febronia's, and it alternates. It ends with Virgil's point of view and, thus, how it ended in Xenosaga III. Believe me, I gave it some thought when I first started to write it how I wanted to do it, but I figured this was the best way to get what I wanted across. You'll just have to read on to see if you agree with me or not (…I hope you do. ;).

Anywho, here's chapter two. PLEASE give me your feedback. Anything helps! Except for flames. Those suck. And never spelled properly anyway.

**Nothing Like Romeo And Juliet**

**Chapter Two**

She had been busy picking flowers in her garden along the road that led away from the church. It was her favorite place to be, not because she could see her birthplace, Labyrinthos, from there, but because it was a sacred place to her that no one ever went to. She had cleared the plot quite some time ago to make room for her lilies, daffodils, and irises. The butterflies frequented her little garden, and she could always hear the bees buzzing about. She had taught Shion everything she knew about flowers, and, though Febronia had offered to help clear a plot for her too, Shion insisted that she make her garden right outside the window of her mother's room at the Acute Neurosis Treatment Facility.

The birds were fluttering overhead on this particular day, but there seemed to be more of them than usual. In the distance, she knew she had heard gunshots, but she had been programmed not to interfere with such business unless she was ordered to or unless it had strictly involved her. Thus was the life of Realians. However, she did not let her purpose in life interfere with her daily activities or the happiness of those around her. That was just the way Febronia was.

Today on this day, she was picking flowers to decorate the guest room she had set up for Shion. The girl's father was late picking her up and had sent Kevin Winnicot to the church to inform the Realian that the little girl would have to be in Febronia's care for the night.

Febronia had no qualms about taking care of Shion. The two had met in the church, some time ago. Shion, curious child as she was, was roaming about and happened to come across the place by accident. Febronia had been planting flowers outside at the time. Shion wasn't scared to meet someone new, and Febronia enjoyed her company. Kevin told the Realian what was happening to the little girl's mother, and a child of only eight should never have to hear that their very own mother may never wake up. Thus, Febronia played the role of "nanny."

And she truly did not mind. Since her sisters, Cecilia and Catherine, were no longer with her, she only had Shion by her side. It got lonely, and Febronia _knew_ where their creator had taken her sisters, but she was not in line to act upon feelings. And Febronia had feelings, which was considered strange for a Realian.

However, she did not think her feelings, "strange" simply because she had been created to sympathize with humans. She was a newer and fairly uncommon kind of model that supported humans, especially soldiers. She was programmed to be willing to help others in need, though even her creator knew that she took her responsibilities to the limit. Nevertheless, she was a wonderful friend, despite her being nonhuman. Shion adored her company and was always at the church to talk to Febronia. So, to make her little friend feel more at home, Febronia had gone out to pick flowers.

When she returned to the church, little Shion had already prepared the vase to share the flowers and show off to everyone. Kevin never had a decent opinion about anything, and his judgment of flowers was less than encouraging. The three were in the back, talking, whilst Shion tended to the flowers, when the sound of the church door opening was heard.

"I'll get it!" little Shion said as she bounded from the room, her teal colored dress ruffling in the wind carried by her tiny legs.

"Shion," Febronia started, but the child had gone.

"That girl…" Kevin snorted, brushing his dark hair from his eyes. "What if they're Federation soldiers?"

"I doubt that's who it could be," the Realian said, watching as Kevin moved towards the door.

"Feb!" came the voice of Shion. "Feb! We've got guests."

Kevin opened the door to the front of the church, giving an exasperated sigh. Febronia followed behind him. "What's all the noise?" he asked, walking out into the open. He saw the several people standing in the hall, and his eyes narrowed as he asked, "Who _are_ you people?"

There was a woman in the front and she appeared quite taken aback for a moment. Febronia looked her over, noting her brown hair, white and purple jacket, black shirt, and chestnut colored shorts. She looked no older than twenty-five, and her face, aside from the perplexed gaze upon her face, was slender and beautiful.

"Well?" Kevin broke Febronia's train of thought. "What's going on?" She watched as he moved down towards the small group that had gathered and decided to follow him. She stopped behind him by the bottom of the steps in the aisle.

"Oh, um," the woman in front fumbled with her hands, "we found someone hurt nearby. His wounds are serious and we can't move him, so we came here."

As though finally grasping what was being said, Febronia gazed amongst the people, her golden eyes wide, "Someone hurt?" A blonde hair Cyborg stepped out into the open, carrying a bandaged man in his arms.

The man was not conscious, and blood was soiling the bandages he had been treated him with. He was a young man who appeared strong and handsome. However, the one thing that caught Febronia's attention was his Federation uniform. _Still…he's hurt. I can't ignore that…_

She dashed forward, holding her hands to her mouth as she caught sight of a larger bandage wrapped around his stomach. It had once been white, but was now damp and red. She gasped, looking over his grave wounds. "Oh no!" She looked up at the Cyborg with worry, "Hurry, this way!"

Pivoting on her heels, she darted past Kevin, eyes locked on the door. She was stopped by a voice she knew well. It came from a boy who was not yet a man, but had more skill than most of the U-TIC soldiers she knew. Kevin sounded serious, and with good reason.

"Febronia, wait." She halted upon his command, anticipating his lecture. She already knew what he was going to say. She didn't blame him, either. She was a U-TIC Realian and this man was her enemy. But that hadn't been the first thing she thought of. Febronia truly _wanted_ to save this man's life. "This man is a Federation _soldier._ Do you realize what you're _doing?_"

She slowly turned around to face Kevin, eyes stern. Febronia knew the consequences of her actions, and standing up to Kevin Winnicot could result in more of a punishment than she knew. After all, _he_ was the apprentice to her creator and master, Joachim Mizrahi.

"He may be an enemy soldier," she said slowly, "but he's still _hurt!_"

He scoffed at her. "I don't think that's such a good idea. You're a U-TIC Organization Realian, remember? It's bad enough that you're here at all." She knew what he was referring to. As a Realian, she had her own orders and duties. She was meant to be at Labyrinthos, fulfilling those duties. There were U-TIC soldiers who needed her aid, but she found her happiness to be at an old, rundown church. There had been many times when Kevin had grown angry with her and had threatened to report her presence in such a place.

"U-TIC!?"a young boy with ruby red hair gasped, his eyes darting to his companions.

Before he could say anymore, the woman in front stepped up to Kevin, her eyes demanding. "Please!" she pleaded. "He's going to die!"

"I know," Febronia nodded, overriding Kevin's protest to treating the soldier. "Take him to the back room."

Whirling around to meet the eyes of the Realian, Kevin folded his arms over his chest, glaring at her. He appeared as though he were going to say something harsh and cruel, but young Shion had left her place from the back of the room and joined Febronia at her side. Her company seemed to change his mind.

"Maybe I should have Professor Mizrahi be a little more strict in the management of Realians." Then, Kevin couldn't hold back his thoughts any longer as he added, "You're a valuable transgenic model. We can't lose you before your growth is complete." It was true, she knew. She was only a prototype. If anything went wrong with those who followed after, _she_ would be the one that would be dealt with. However, nothing meant more than anything to her at this moment than saving this man's life.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, eyes crestfallen, "but I can't let him die."

Growing irritated with her talk of saving a simple man's life, Kevin leaned forward, his face red, and shouted, "Febronia!"

She would not back down. "If you want to call the soldiers, go ahead."

Shion clutched onto the Realian's arm, staring at the older boy with such a look that it made him pull back. Glancing away from the two, he sighed and said, "Ahh, fine." Throwing his arms to the air, Kevin shook his head. "I wouldn't want to cause a problem with your mental balance over something like this." It was meant to be taken sardonically. Kevin was like that. But it made Febronia smile inwardly. When he wanted to, Kevin Winnicot could be a very nice boy. "I'll pretend I don't know about it."

Face brighter, Febronia looked down at Shion, who was mirroring her own image. It was strange to be taking orders from a fourteen year old boy, but Kevin was intellectually higher beyond his years. He was strict, but competent. He said very pessimistic things at times, but always followed it with heavy thoughts and philosophical beliefs. He had his own way of doing things, and Professor Mizrahi must have known it, too, else he would never have hired Kevin to be his apprentice.

Turning to stare at the posse of people in the church, Kevin told them, "Her maintenance medical kit is outside. It's for Realians, but it _should_ be better than nothing."

"Thank you!" the lady looked much more relieved now.

Yes, Kevin _could_ be a nice boy, when he wanted… "Don't mention it," he sneered. "It's not like he's going to live anyway."

"Ah…!" the woman gasped.

…but then he often followed it with an extremely crude comment.

Febronia shook her head as he walked on ahead to the back room and told Shion to show the others where the medical kit was outside. Two other men from the party followed the little girl while Febronia walked to the back room, preparing for the injured soldier. The Cyborg trailed behind her, waiting for instructions. She looked around, staring at a vacant corner in the room.

"You can set him on my bed for now," the Realian pointed to a cozy bed beside a lit fireplace. "That way, we can set up the maintenance bed without any trouble."

"Understood," he said and immediately turned towards the bed, gently depositing the soldier onto it.

The Cyborg walked back out to help his friends carry in the Realian medical kit. Kevin was in the back, directing the trio of men into the room and shouting orders. Besides the Cyborg, there was a dark haired man dressed in green and a platinum haired boy dressed in white and black helping out. It didn't take much to get Kevin angry and he already did not want anything to do with saving the soldier's life. However, he was _responsible _for any damage done to the maintenance bed, thus, Kevin had no choice.

"No, no, no!" he'd bellow. "Turn it this way and hook up the output plug from _this_ end!"

The three would flip around for a second time, and Kevin would scream obscenities and words that denounced the proficiency of the other men. Febronia sat back and watched, her curious eyes watching the four of them scurry about. Even Kevin, who always acted on his own, finally jumped in to help set the maintenance bed up. No matter how tough and nonchalant he tried to be, even a Realian like Febronia could see something in his heart that no one else could. He protested from time to time that he wanted to set the bed up as quickly as possible so that everyone would have to leave, but even _he_ was working hard to save the soldier's life, whether he knew it or not.

After minutes of strenuous effort had passed, the wounded soldier was laid upon the bed and the man in green began to tinker with the monitor, adjusting the man's life waves with that of the machine. Febronia sat in the back as a spectator, eyeing the man who was so seriously involved in his work. For a mere traveler, he appeared highly skilled and knowledgeable. The woman in the white and purple jacket wandered over to him from time to time, pointing out things to the man, and he would nod and go about his business.

"How is he?" Febronia asked after quite a while passed.

"Not good," he replied and turned to look at the other woman. "He's suffered heavy damage to his vital organs. Nanomachine treatment won't be enough." His face showed great concern, those his eyes did not belie the fatigue his body was enduring.

Febronia's eyes turned to a small Realian child in a red beret hiding locks of pink hair. She was staring at the monitor on the maintenance bed. She quickly whirled around to the man in green, cheeks pale.

"The stem cell germination can't keep up. We have to transplant the basic tissue he needs."

Trying to hide his thoughts of defeat, the man had to turn his head away from the little girl. Still, he seemed to be unable to stop a fist from clenching as he swore and muttered, "There's nothing we can do." He gave a deep exhale and shook his head obviously not wanting to believe what he, himself, had just said.

Febronia lowered her gaze to the ground. The man was going to die, and after all of their efforts…_No, there __**is**__ another way. Only I can do this._

"Please," she whispered, stepping up to the man in green, "transplant my organs. That should compensate for what's missing."

Febronia watched the man's reaction after she had voiced her request. He looked as though he hadn't quite heard what she had said, or perhaps he had and just didn't know what to say. _It's not surprising. There aren't many Realians out there like me._

"Transplant?" he echoed, giving several blinks in her direction. Then, to her surprise, he regained his composure and shrugged. "No offense, but you're a _Realian._ There's never been a case of transplanting organs from a Realian to a _human._"

She merely smiled at him. "I'm a transgenic type." Again, he looked befuddled. Febronia quickly explained, "I was designed by Professor Mizrahi as a template for next-generation Realians. My body composition is virtually identical to human beings." Holding her hands to her chest, she beseeched, "The cells should have an affinity for each other. So, please…"

He still appeared skeptical. "Even if that's true," he crossed his arms over his chest, "what about you?" For the first time since she had met him, he smiled. "If we remove your organs, you'll need transplants as well."

"If we temporarily suspend my internal circulation, I can last for several hours." Febronia closed her eyes. "If I return to Labyrinthos during that time, I can regenerate there." He was still concerned, but Febronia knew that the injured soldier's life was running short. _We don't have time to wonder._ "I'll be fine," she reassured. "Please, help him."

Taken aback by her abrupt assertiveness, the man in green stepped backwards, "Uh…"

Lowering her head and slightly tightening her shoulders, she whispered, "He's going to die. There's no other way."

Febronia's gaze wandered back up to the man. She knew he was contemplating her words and _understood_ that she was right. Still, he asked, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," she replied almost immediately. "Please."

"All right," he nodded and then turned to the woman in the white and purple jacket. "I'm going to need a makeshift bed. Anything will do."

"Why not my bed?" Febronia questioned, looking from the maintenance bed to her own.

"Because once his operation is complete, you'll be using the maintenance bed," the man explained. "We will move him to your bed after that."

"I see," she said and gestured to the closet in the corner of the room. "There's a mattress in there. The small, wooden frame that goes with it is in the other room. Kevin knows where."

"Kevin…" the man echoed, and then he nodded. "Understood." The man's attention merged to the smaller Realian with the beret, "Could you have him bring in the frame?"

"Sure," the young Realian consented and quickly moved from the room.

When he turned again, the other woman in the jacket was already searching the closet.

"Is this it?" she asked.

"Yes," Febronia concurred. "We can set it up next to the soldier's bed."

"All right." The woman pulled the mattress from the closet while the transgenic Realian helped. They turned, positioned it onto its side, and waited for further instructions.

"While we are waiting for the frame, I'm going to need some shears to cut his shirt with." The man was already pulling the sheets back on the maintenance bed. "He's been shot; the bullets must be removed right away."

"There was a medical kit your friends brought," Febronia pointed out. "It should be on the desk behind you."

He turned to look, found it, and instantly snatched it up. The two women watched as he opened it, found what he was looking for, and removed the shears from the kit. Moving to the side of the bed, he leaned over the injured soldier, placing the shears at the collar of his uniform, and began to cut away at the shirt.

"It looks as though he's been shot at least twice," the man said, working his arm to cut at a steady angle. "One of you go look for something to deposit the bullets into…" he shook his head. "I can't finish this. You," his eyes met Febronia's, "please finish cutting his shirt for me. Remove it entirely from his body. Tell me when you're done."

"Y-Yes…" she agreed, taking the shears from him while he whirled around to sift through the medical kit.

"I'll find a pan," the woman in the jacket offered, setting the mattress down.

"Great," he said. "Thanks."

"What's all this talk of a bed frame!?" Kevin stormed into the room, carrying a wooden frame in his arms. "Febronia, what are you guys planning to do?"

"He needs a transplant," she answered, not bothering to take her eyes off of her priority. _I finished with the shirt. Now to work on the sleeves…_

"Make sure you cut into a complete circle around the arm," the man in green coached. Febronia nodded.

"A transplant!?" Kevin exclaimed. "Febronia…you're not thinking of…"

"There's no other choice," the transgenic Realian softly argued, moving to the other side of the bed in order to cut the sleeves. She ignored the blood that had begun to stain her hands. _It's leaking through the bandages…_

"You don't _have_ to do this!" he protested. "Don't be stupid!"

"He's going to die if we don't transplant his organs," the woman in the jacket cut in. "Please, we have to save him."

"I can't work like this…!" The man in green stood up straight, his frustration finally catching up to him. "I can only have people who are willing to _work_ in this room right now." His eyes were solely on Kevin. "If you're not going to help, then please wait outside."

"You don't seem to understand!" Kevin continued to preach. "I'm responsible for whatever happens to her! If anything goes wrong…"

"This is all my idea…" Febronia intermitted, stopping for a moment to look up at him. "Please, try to be a little more understanding."

Kevin looked at her, eyes blazing, but he just scowled and said nothing more on the issue. He moved past the woman in the jacket and stood above the mattress. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, monotonously.

"Just set up the bed next to the maintenance bed," the woman in the jacket replied. "We're preparing for a transplant."

"So I understand," Kevin growled and placed the frame onto the floor. "I swear, Febronia, if _they_ were to find out about this…"

"The sleeves are cut," Febronia announced, ignoring Kevin.

"Good," the man replied, pulling a small table up beside the soldier's bed. "After the makeshift bed is set up, please go ahead and lie down."

The Realian agreed and stepped back, watching as he grabbed a pan from the other woman and proceeded to remove the red, damp bandages from around the soldier's body. He was careful in his actions, moving slowly and steadily with a long, thin metal object in his hand that appeared to look like tweezers. He seemed very concentrated, and Febronia did not want to say anything more that would disturb him.

Once Kevin was through setting up the bed, she crawled on top of it and lay still on her back, waiting for whatever was coming next.

"It's completely shattered into pieces," the man in green shook his head. "I can't get the bullet out. We'll have to rely completely on the transplant."

"What about the other wounds?" the woman in the jacket inquired.

"That won't be as difficult." He stood up and turned his attention to her. "I know this may be a little out of your league, but do you mind hooking up the I.V. to them? And prepare the anesthetic, too."

"I'm an engineer, not a doctor," she lightly huffed. "But I'll do my best."

"Thanks," he turned to go back to work.

"Man…I can't watch this…" Kevin hung his head and quickly left the room. "Don't blame _me_ if something goes wrong!"

"Can you tilt your head back?" the woman was standing over Febronia, holding a mask. "Usually, we use more advanced methods, but it appears that we'll have to rely on good, old knowledge from the past. At least…" there was a smile on her face, "…that's what _he_ wants…" _He? Oh, she must be referring to the man in the green clothes._ "He probably only knows how to do this because he read it in a book."

"I see…" Febronia hesitantly said. She wasn't sure if she liked what was being said.

"You can turn the gas on, now," the man commanded, pointing to a button located on the maintenance bed. "After that, hook up the I.V. and we'll begin the operation."

"This won't hurt at all," the woman told Febronia, comforting her all the while.

"I know," the Realian said, holding her breath. "Please begin."

After a moment, Febronia could feel air rush towards her, causing her to cough slightly, and she adjusted her body to receive the wind. She stared up at the ceiling.

"If you feel drowsy, that's natural," the woman said. "Don't fight it, just relax."

Febronia nodded, taking in deep breaths to allow the anesthetic to flow through her body. Her mind drifted for a while, slightly nervous, but she had to force herself to calm down. If anything were to happen, she trusted the man and the woman to take care of it. With thoughts like these in mind, her eyelids grew heavier, and she allowed the power of sleep to overtake her.

\/\/\/

"How are you feeling?"

Febronia wasn't quite sure where she was at first. She couldn't open her eyelids and her body was numb and cold. The sound of a voice echoed in her mind, and her ears felt hollow and dull. She tried to speak, but found herself coughing and sputtering instead.

"Take it slow. You've only just recovered."

There was a familiar beeping and the sound of a running motor. Though her eyes were closed and wished to remain that way, Febronia forced them open, a blurry color of green overpowering her sight. There was a warm touch to her face, and the gust of wind she was used to feeling against her cheeks was gone. In fact, it became easier to breathe. She checked her sensors. Her body was slowing down, but normal otherwise.

"Are you awake now?"

"I…think so…" she hoarsely whispered. "What happened?"

"Do you remember the transplant?"

The word "transplant" brought the Realian back to full attention, though her body was still fatigued and her mind was tired. _There doesn't appear to be any sort of errors. I suppose that means that the transplant went well._ There was the sound of a door opening and closing, and Febronia's still foggy eyes wandered over to see a man with bright, white hair and a slightly dark complexion. He looked to the man in green, who nodded and turned to leave the room.

"I'll be back," the man in green said, disappearing behind the door.

"That's right," she recalled, realizing that the beeping was coming from above her and the running motor came from inside of the maintenance bed. "I remember now…"

"How do you feel?" the man with the white hair asked.

"I'll be fine," she replied.

The door opened once again and closed and the woman in the white and purple jacket appeared.

"Is he…did the transplant go well?" The two were standing by her side, staring down at her form.

The woman broke her gaze to look at the back of the room. Febronia followed the woman's eyes to see the small Realian with the pink hair and red beret.

"Yes. With that quack as the surgeon, I wasn't too sure, but, somehow, he managed it."

Febronia smiled. _She must mean the man in green. I have to remember to thank him later._ The woman refocused her attention on Febronia.

"He's sleeping in the back now," she told her, referring to the soldier. "Don't worry. The others are with him."

The transgenic Realian closed her eyes. "I see." She gave a soft sigh, "Good."

"You should rest here for a while," the woman advised. "Replication may be finished, but your body cycle still hasn't returned."

"Yes," Febronia said tiredly. "I'll do that."

There was a short pause between the two and the woman in the jacket seemed hesitant about something. Febronia was about to ask what it was when the woman blurted out, "Um, thanks." Her eyes lowered to the floor and she added, "For saving him."

_But it was you and your friends who did all of the work…_ Their conversation was interrupted when a flustered, little Shion dashed into the room and threw herself at Feb's side, panting. _Ah, that's right. Kevin must have kept her out with him the entire time._

"Feb," she cried, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay, Shion," the Realian reassured, looking gently at the little girl. "Everything's fine."

"Your name's Shion?" the woman in the jacket asked. Both pairs of eyes were upon her and Febronia could see the sadness in her eyes. Little Shion, however, could not.

"Yeah," she answered, her tiny face resilient to the anguish she had displayed earlier. She always liked strangers, Febronia knew. "Did you and your friends come in that green ship?"

"Green ship?" the woman echoed, as though she hadn't heard Shion correctly the first time.

"Yeah. A pretty ship I've never seen before came down by the east cave." Her smile was bright and beautiful. "You were on it, right?" Febronia could see the hopefulness in her eyes.

Giving a small gasp, the woman whirled around to look at the boy with the white hair. "Could that be the Elsa?"

"Yes," he agreed. "It makes sense for the Elsa to have been sent to the same place with us." He looked down at little Shion. "We should check it out."

Immediately afterwards, there was the sound of a closing door and Kevin walked into the room, looking disappointed. "I can't believe you went and _did_ this," he said to Febronia. Folding his arms over his chest, he gritted his teeth, "They're going to _question_ my _supervision._"

Little Shion left Febronia's side and stepped beside Kevin, holding her hands to her chest. He looked down at her, scowled, and then turned his attention back to Febronia.

"I did it on my own," she argued, tiredly. "I won't bring any trouble upon you."

"I certainly _hope_ not," he muttered, descending his eyes to the floor. Regaining his composure, he tilted his head slightly up and gave a harsh stare to the woman in the jacket. "It's about time for the Organization to show up. Could I ask you all to _leave?_" The woman's jaw dropped at such a request. Kevin must've seen it, too, because he added, "It's only going to complicate matters if you are here."

"What about him?" the woman pointed to the injured soldier lying in Febronia's bed. There was a hint of worry in her voice. Everyone knew that the soldier could not be lifted yet.

"Sorry," Kevin shook his head, "but he has to stay right here." Giving another irritated sigh, he turned away. "There's going to be _serious_ trouble if someone finds out I helped an enemy soldier. Once we're gone…" he gestured to young Shion and himself, "…you can do as you please."

The woman nodded. "All right." Spirits high again, she gave the child a smile. "Shion, thanks for telling me about the ship."

"Sure," she gave a hearty, little wave. "Goodbye."

After the party was ushered out of the church by Kevin, Febronia snuggled further into her covers, very much anticipating sleep. _He'll recover…_ she thought, relieved. _Thank goodness._

"You're going to get me into serious trouble, Febronia!" Kevin told her after he came back into the room. "You should've just left things well enough alone."

"Whether you're a Federation soldier or a U-TIC soldier, a life is not something that can be weighed on a scale. That's what I believe."

She heard Kevin scoff. "Yeah, well, I disagree." There was the sound of shuffling footsteps when he finally said, "I don't know what I'm going to do with you, Febronia. Why do you have to worry about a Federation soldier of all things?"

"Kevin…"

"I'm sure you understand what will happen if the Organization finds out. I want you to get him out of here soon." The door to the room shut behind his cold words.

\/\/\/

Febronia wasn't sure _what_ story Kevin gave to Professor Mizrahi or the other members of the Organization when they arrived to pick Kevin, Shion, and Febronia up, but when she awoke several hours later, she was resting in another maintenance bed in Labyrinthos. Professor Mizrahi was seen through the screen, tinkering with, what she presumed to be, the Realian Unit Monitor.

"All right, Febronia," he began, staring at the screen beside him. "Tell me now, can you feel this?"

He pressed a variety of buttons, and several blue rings began to swirl above her. Febronia realized that her body was growing less achy and tired. She could slowly begin to move her left arm and then her right. Even her eyelids were less heavy than before.

"Yes, sir," she responded, looking back to the blue circles above her.

"I see." He pressed several more buttons. "And this?"

The rings changed from blue to green. Her respiratory system was balancing itself within her body. Her functions acknowledged her that everything was normal. Tilting her head back, she breathed in deeply and then exhaled.

"Febronia?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then everything is back to normal." She lay there, unmoving. "Kevin informed us that you had to treat an injured soldier. Is that true?"

Febronia's artificial heart stopped beating in her chest. Her mouth fell agape and thousands of thoughts began to spin about in her mind. _No…Kevin didn't…did he…?_

"E-Excuse me, sir?"

"The U-TIC soldier," Mizrahi pressed. "You helped a U-TIC soldier, right?"

"O-Oh," she blinked, looking away from the screen that adjoined the room. "Yes. That's right."

"I see. Kevin stayed behind to help the soldier on his way." Febronia's breathing slowly came back to normal. "It's beyond his duties to do such things. You should thank him when you return. And…" Mizrahi straightened his back, "…wandering out in such a place is quite dangerous, Febronia. You are lucky that everything you needed was provided for you. I surmise that Kevin is responsible for the transplant?"

"Y-Yes, sir," she quietly answered, the thought of lying to her creator terrifying her. _If he finds out the truth, Kevin and I are both in trouble. I find it quite surprising that Kevin hasn't already given me up. It's…unusual. _She had to hide a smile. It had been several times that day that Kevin had been willing to help, despite his façade of protests. Kevin was a good boy, even if he didn't care to admit it.

"That's good," Mizrahi said. "You can get up in just a short while after I file the records, Febronia. Once you are well enough to walk, I will send for Kevin. The soldier should be on his way after that, don't you think?"

"Oh…yes, sir."

"Right then. Stay still until restoration is complete." He turned to walk away, leaving a more than relieved Febronia in the maintenance bed in the next room.

Kevin seemed to have concocted quite a moving lie. Of course, when it was him, Mizrahi would believe _anything_ Kevin had to say. It wasn't unusual really, and Kevin didn't have to do much. Changing the story to a U-TIC soldier made things easier and she assumed that Kevin hadn't had to give a name to the Professor, given that Kevin had "special privileges" where it concerned Professor Mizrahi. How he had gotten Shion to stay quiet _and_ been able to roll Febronia out to the U-TIC vehicle without her realizing it must have been quite a feat for him. She would have to remember to thank him later.

When she was released later in the day, Kevin had already been called to Labyrinthos. She passed him in the hall before she left and asked about the soldier.

"Keep quiet," he hushed, his voice sinking to a low whisper. "He's fine, but hasn't woken up yet. Be careful not to get followed when heading back to check on him or else it'll be _both_ our heads, Febronia."

"Thank you," she replied, closing her eyes. "You could've given us both up if you had wanted to."

"This wasn't about you," he denied, eyes narrowing. "It would've been all on me had the Organization found out. I only included you because you were the other half of the equation. Had I had my way, Professor Mizrahi would know all about this."

She smiled. He was lying. She knew when he was lying. The left side of his lips would twitch and his cheeks would puff out. "Thank you, Kevin."

"Gah," storming past her, Kevin entered his quarters, mumbling something incoherent to Febronia.

Shion was back with her father and mother, so that meant that Febronia was leaving by herself. She didn't mind so much; she knew the secret path back to the church that would lead her there before nightfall. Thinking ahead of preparations before she got there, Febronia remembered the makeshift bed that had been used during the transplant and had decided that she would use that and give the injured soldier her room for the meantime.

Though she would have to travel back and forth for meals, she was almost excited about having to take care of someone. She spent most of her time at the alone church, and Shion couldn't always be there. Though Febronia's task denied her being at the church at all, the Realian was a floater who, somehow, managed to do as she wished so long as someone knew where she was at all times. Kevin was with her the most besides the Professor, and could be quite a bore.

For someone so young and intelligent, he tried to appear more grownup than he actually was. He disapproved of having fun and "martyrdom" was just beyond his realm of expertise. He was very outspoken and extremely philosophical. Sometimes, Febronia wasn't sure what to expect of him. It came to be quite a revelation to her when he had gone out of his way to not only help the soldier survive, but lie about it in the aftermath. Rare times like these were what proved that Kevin was a completely different person that what he appeared to everyone else as. Febronia could see this. And that's what made the bond between them special…or so she thought.

But when she was all alone at the church, she often longed for someone to talk to her or to spend time with. Shion was a small child and Febronia adored her, but she couldn't possibly talk about certain things with a girl so young. Kevin, although acted like an adult, was just a child, too. Perhaps the soldier would prove to be better company, and he didn't seem to be going anywhere for quite sometime.

It warmed her heart to think about what it would be like when he'd awaken and what he would have to tell her. Perhaps he would find it odd that an enemy Realian had saved him, but maybe it wouldn't bother him so much. She was certain that he would much rather be alive than dead. Even then, she thought that it would be nice if he would open up to her and talk to her about his life and the Federation. She had only heard about the negative viewpoints from those she spent time with, and hearing it for the first time from someone else would be reassuring.

She wanted to do her best to help him get better, all the while of keeping him company…or the other way around. Febronia found that she would much rather be picking flowers than picking off enemy soldiers, despite the fact that she wasn't designed for combat. _I wonder if he likes flowers too…Well, maybe not so much. Kevin says that they're pretty girly. But Kevin thinks that a lot of things are girly. I suppose I'll pick some and put them in the vase beside his bed. He might like that for when he wakes up._

When she left Labyrinthos, she had a warm heart and a bright motivation that kept her going until she got to the church. She couldn't wait to meet the soldier face to face.

\/\/\/

For some reason, I had a really tough time writing this chapter, so it's not really one of my favorites. Oh well. R&R please and constructive criticism is welcomed.


	3. He Hates Her With A Passion

**Disclaimer:** I still don't own Xenosaga. But I wish I did.

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who has been reviewing! It means a lot to me!

***

**Nothing Like Romeo and Juliet**

**Chapter Three**

***

When he had awoken some time later, he wasn't sure _how_ long to be precise, he found himself staring upwards at a wooden ceiling. Some of the planks were slightly chipped and the pinnacle of the two rafters that connected overhead was in great need of a paint job. He slowly turned his head to the beige colored walls and eyed the two, large pictures hanging from long nails that had been driven into the wood. He couldn't see much else from his position, and turning his head just made him groan in pain. Stopping his scrutinizing for a moment, Luis Virgil began a mental checklist to ensure that his body was still in one piece.

He had a splitting headache that ran from ear to ear. Virgil could feel soft fabric running around the circumference of his head. He tried to reach up to touch it, but found that he couldn't move either of his arms, his right arm especially, and it took a hazy moment to remember that he had been shot. Leaving his arms alone, Virgil continued the inward check of his body. One half of his mouth was not quite numb, but felt heavy and swollen. It didn't help to have the gauze taped over it either. He tried to cough in order to clear out the dryness in his throat, but found it too overwhelming and ceased doing so.

Lowering his gaze to the foot of the bed that he had miraculously wound up in, he realized that a dense, wool blanket had been draped over him, and he slowly wiggled his toes to see if they were still there. They were, he found, and he tried to move his legs. They were a bit stiff, but otherwise useable. They felt warm underneath the blanket and the mattress he was placed upon was very comfortable. _But I have to break that. I need to know how messed up I am._ Gathering as much courage as he could, he tried to arch his back up, but was cruelly sent back down, followed by cries of pain.

"You shouldn't push yourself so hard," came a voice from the other side of the room. "You're just going to make things harder on yourself and you've only just awoken."

"Who…who's there?" Virgil demanded, trying to ignore the surges of stings feeding throughout his body by turning his gaze to try and find the voice speaking to him.

"It's just me." A man who appeared to be in his mid thirties or so wandered up to him wearing green garments that looked almost like a robe, but the buttons at the collar gave it a more formal feel. _Chinese? Maybe Japanese…_ The Ying and Yang pendant dangling at the end of his cloth chain belt was a dead giveaway. Locks of black hair hung in his eyes, but most of it was braided back and tied with a red band.

"Who's 'just me?'" Virgil grunted, almost unable to talk at all. The more he tried, the tighter his throat became.

"A friend," the man replied, a soft smile on his face. "It's good to see that you've awoken, Virgil."

"How do you know my name?" the blonde soldier scowled, wishing he could move. If he could, he knew that he would be all over this man, trying to find out who he was and what he was up to. "Are you from U-TIC?"

"U-TIC?" the man gave a hearty laugh. "Never in a million years."

"Well? What about your companions?"

"You sure are an odd one," the man replied, eyes still sparkling with humor. "Normally, the first thing that people do who awaken after a three day interval is ask where they are. You haven't done that or anything close to that."

"I asked who you were," Virgil protested. "That's a reasonable enough question. But, for the record, where am I, and how did I get here?"

"You're in a spare room in the back of an old church just a ways from where my friends and I first picked you up. We tended to your wounds and brought you here."

"I see," Virgil replied, warily. Then the terrible reminder of how he wound up in this condition in the first place left his face contorted with anguish. He scowled and turned away.

"What's wrong?" the man asked, concerned.

"My…my comrades…They…they were…"

"I know." Virgil heard the other man sigh. "I'm sorry. There was nothing we could do for them."

"Those Realians," the soldier said through gritted teeth. "I'll get them for what they've done! When I'm able to get out of this bed, I'll rip them apart from limb to limb! In fact, I'll…" he was interrupted by a sharp clearing of the throat from the man in green. "What? What is it?"

"Begging my pardon, but have you come to wonder how it was that you survived in the first place? After all, your wounds _were_ serious. They called for a transplant."

"Transplant?" Virgil echoed. "Was it you?"

"No," he shook his head.

"Then one of your friends, right?" the soldier gave a weak smile. "Tell them I said 'thanks,' all right? I mean…well…wait, a transplant? Where would you have been able to get the organs to do something like that?" Then a thought crossed Virgil's mind. "No one…died to help me, did they?"

"No," the man shook his head, looking almost relieved. "No one died. But it wasn't one of my friends who saved you, either. Quite the opposite really—for you, too. Call it ironic, but the one who saved you was a U-TIC Realian."

"_What!?_" Virgil screamed and nearly jumped up in his bed. "_What_ did you just _say!?_"

Evidently, the man knew that Virgil was going to react this way and had prepared for it. He closed his eyes, mouth pulling at one end to form a wry smile, and said, "Indeed, it was just as I had said. I'm sure the person in mind isn't quite to your liking, but she _did_ make the effort to save y—"

"_Person?_" the soldier blinked, sitting up on his shoulders. He had to adjust so that the pain he was feeling wasn't so great. "There is _nothing_ human about those…those _things._"

"That's a terrible thing to say," the man folded his arms over his chest. "She went through a lot of effort to save you, too. She and her companions could've gotten into serious trouble for it."

"I _never_ asked them to do that!" Virgil argued. Feeling the tenderness in his elbows, he released the weight upon them and collapsed back into a recumbent position in the bed. "How sickening…to think that I have a part of _her_ inside my body…"

"Virgil…" the man warned, becoming less friendly. "Don't you think that you should get to know her first? She's not as bad as you might think."

"I watched my friends be brutally _murdered_ by those things!" Virgil's tone was rising higher, causing his throat to sting more. He pretended not to care. "And you expect me to _forgive_ that!? Say what you will, but I refuse to do it!" Turning over onto his side, the soldier closed the conversation between the man and himself.

He heard a sigh emit from above him and shuffling footsteps wander away from him. Virgil didn't bother to turn around to watch the man walk out the door. Instead, he stayed right where he was, eyes upon a heated fireplace on the left side of the bed. He had wondered where the heat had come from, and now he knew. The wood crackled from beneath the screen, small flames leaping out, and he blinked from glaring at the brightness too long. Scowling, he lay on his back again, easing the pain from his left arm, and fell asleep.

He wasn't sure how long he had been out this time, but when he had awakened, no one was in the room. He half expected to be alone anyway for some reason. Perhaps, he thought, it was the way he wanted it to be. He couldn't quite move his body, but he blamed it on the stiffness from his forced position in the bed. He realized that he had never finished his mental checkup of himself, but, somehow, couldn't bring himself to care anymore.

Virgil found that his arms still wouldn't move, and the wound on his side made it impossible to think about trying. Nevertheless, he was curious to see where he _really_ was. _A church outside the forest doesn't cut it. I don't trust this place._ He kicked the blanket off of his body with his legs, finding that less pain coursed there, and the covers fell to the floor. He was clad in his knee high socks and military pants, but his jacket had mysteriously disappeared. So had his undershirt.

His chest and stomach were covered in bandages and his arms looked no better. Though his skin was warm to the touch, he appeared pale and the veins in his body were highly visible. _Transplant…That's right. There was probably a blood transfusion, too. The cells most likely haven't regenerated yet._ Though he was well built, there were evident signs of exhaustion, besides the obvious pallor.

Still, he would not let trifle things hold him back from knowing what needed to be learned. He slowly lowered his legs to the floor and forced himself into a sitting position, taking as much time as he needed to keep himself from growing too tired too quickly. His arms weren't much help, and he couldn't place much weight on them. Such a feeling of helplessness made him bitter and he shook it off with violent thoughts.

Virgil rocked his body forward a couple of times before successfully standing up, but nearly fell from too much celerity. One leg was inattentively thrust out to hold his balance and he stumbled to the wall behind him, leaning against it for support. He stayed there for a moment, keeping his shoulder pinned to the wall and taking deep breaths, the instant brightness took him from surprise and he realized that he was standing before a window that overlooked a small garden, several clumps of trees, and a collapsed brick wall.

Indeed he was located on the edge of the forest, just as the man in green had claimed. The trees sat further back, but Virgil could still see them from out beyond the window. They were a luscious green, just as the forest had been when he had first arrived with Curtis and Derek. The very thought of them sent a dull knife into his heart. They were gone and this would forever be their tomb. It was too much to bear.

Shaking the miserable thoughts from his head, he returned his attention to the brick wall behind the trees, which had collapsed some ways back because he could still see part of it standing in the corner where one end of the wall met the other. It seemed to run a long ways and once stood about six feet high. However, time had not been so merciful, and thus the result came clear.

The grass that blanketed the earth was cut back, but looked just as healthy as everything else that grew around the church. Several flowerbeds were scattered about the area, save for one large area that was blocked off with wood and ran parallel with the brick wall. Virgil noted how in bloom and alive the flowers were, ranging in many varieties, shapes, and sizes. Whoever lived here was a very good gardener.

Then he saw her, the gardener and the one he figured was the U-TIC Realian who had saved his life. She was standing over a lone flower box, a small shovel in one gloved hand and a hoe in the other. She had short, platinum hair that curled right below her earlobes and reflected against the sun's rays like silver streams that flowed like silk. Her ivory skin was nearly flawless and without error. Virgil knew that only a Realian would look so perfect. They were built to _be_ perfect.

But that wasn't what gave her identity away. It was the style of her dress and markings on the back of her boots. The colors of black, purple, white, orange, tan, and teal ran vibrant in her clothes, beginning with a dark collar contrasted with white that cut into more of an A-frame down her chest. The orange in her dress broke into a V shape that ran along her shoulders before being completely overwhelmed by white sleeves lined with black. The purple overtook most of the dress down her waist, keeping to her sides, while the black ran along her midsection and ends of her dress. The orange played as a sloppy belt that broke the purple from the black, and tiny bits of teal were found in between. The end of the dress was white all the way around and Virgil could catch two tiny legs clothed in purple tights, snuggly fitting in tan boots lined with orange and white.

On the back of her boots were the markings of U-TIC—a symbol which he knew well. Virgil had to force his head away, but not before he caught the sight of a tiny girl on her knees in front of the flower pot. She was in light blue dress, small shovel in hand, and locks of shoulder length brown hair fell about her little shoulders. She adjusted the large rimmed glasses on the bridge of her petite nose. Virgil watched her for a moment as she worked to dig in the box, pushing the dirt away.

It was then that he realized that he could hear humming. Upon closer examination, he knew it was coming from the girl. It was strange how thin the glass in the windowpane was. He could hear everything that they were saying. Well, not that it was much. The little girl was humming a song that was slightly off key, but he didn't count that against her. When the Realian above the child chimed in, he listened even closer.

"Alas, my love, you do me wrong," she sang, her voice gentle and soft, "to cast me off discourteously. For I have loved you well and long, delighting in your company."

"Greensleeves was all my joy," the little girl broke into song after the Realian had finished, bouncing her little head and digging in the dirt. "Greensleeves was my delight. Greensleeves was my heart of gold, and who but my lady Greensleeves." Stopping what she was doing, she lifted her big eyes to the Realian and said, "Did I sing it right, Feb?"

"Yes, Shion," the elder replied, smiling. "You sang beautifully."

"Really?" the child squealed, her face bright from such praise. "But you're so much better, Feb. I hope I can learn to be as good as you someday."

"I know you will," the Realian laughed. "I'll teach you the next verse tomorrow, all right?"

"Yay! I can't wait!"

Virgil watched them from his place at the window, unable to explain what he was feeling. The Realian and the child…It was awkward to see them together like that. Realians were meant to fight, not sing and work in gardens. He eyed the U-TIC Realian once more, listening to her hum the song again. It was a pity, really, he knew. She was quite attractive and had a wonderful voice. Still, it didn't change the fact that she was a Realian. She was something that he would never understand, nor would he want to understand. In Virgil's eyes, she was nothing more than a microscopic bug that needed to be crushed, and he wouldn't mind doing it…just…after he got better.

_Shame…She's quite the looker. Her creator did a fine job designing her. Still…it changes nothing. Her saving my life does not change how I feel about Realians. When I get my strength back, I'm going to destroy all of the Realians, even if she has to be the first._

Feeling somewhat fatigued, Virgil guided himself back to the bed, slightly more satisfied in knowing his surroundings. He tried once to reach down to grab the blanket he had knocked off the bed, but his body was unkind and he found that he couldn't bend his back very well. Ignoring it and cutting his losses, he lay down upon the bed, the heat from the fireplace gently hitting his body. He closed his eyes for a moment, just to rest them.

By the time he opened them again, Virgil realized that he had fallen asleep for a second time. He was startled by the sound of an opening door and turned his head to see the same Realian from earlier in the garden standing in the frame, holding a tray of food and liquids. She was smiling as she stood there with the tray and gestured to it with her head.

"The man in green told me that you had come to. I made something for you to eat."

When she shuffled into the room, arms ready to deposit the tray onto his bed, Virgil's voice halted her in her tracks. "Leave it on the desk there."

Her smile quickly faded as she continued to look at him, her eyes filled with question. He knew what she must've been thinking. The desk was nearly at the other corner of the room and walking for him was almost impossible at this point. He watched her eyes vacillate back and forth from the food to the desk.

"But…" she began, hesitant to abide by his command.

"I said to leave it on the desk," his eyes narrowed. "I'm not hungry right now."

The Realian looked like she was going to protest further, but thought better of it and slowly padded to the desk, setting the food down. Without another word, she turned and left the room, closing the door gently behind her. Rolling his eyes after she was gone, he turned back over onto his side and laid his head on the pillow. _This bed must be hers, too. How disgusting._ With one quick movement of his left arm, he swatted the pillow to the floor, listening as it thudded on top of the blanket that was already down there.

_Much better,_ he thought, lying his head down for a second time.

The next time he awoke, she was standing over the untouched food, looking a bit hurt. Her eyes wandered to the pillow and blanket on the floor. Silently, she gathered the tray in her arms and drug her feet out the door, shoulders slumped. He pretended to still be asleep, not looking at her as she pulled the door closed, and gave a sigh. _I don't eat food made by Realians. I'd rather starve to death._ He turned over to stare out the edge of the window. The sky was black, indicating that it was nighttime. Virgil shivered a bit, but moved a little closer to the left side of the bed that caught the warmth of the fire.

He was again interrupted when the door reopened and tiny footsteps ventured across the room and stopped at the side of the bed. Virgil _knew_ that they belonged to the Realian, but said nothing at first. The rustle of clothing perked up his ears and he could hear her bending over. Something heavy was being lifted from the floor and then was suddenly draped over his body. _That cursed blanket…_

The pillow was placed beside his head and Virgil scowled. He knew that she could not see his glare because his back was to her, but he wished that she _realized_ how much he hated her. When the sound of footsteps materialized again, Virgil kicked the blanket from off of him and used his shoulder to push the pillow from the bed once more. The footsteps stopped and there was a pause. Then, there was a heavy sigh and a closing door. Settling himself back into the bed, he once again closed his eyes, allowing slumber to overtake him.

This time, he was traveling. However, he wasn't alone. There was a brunette by his side, and the smell of familiar smoke played at Virgil's nose. A cigarette was dangling from the fingers of the man in front of him, but his face was unseen. Curious to see who his traveling companion was, Virgil attempted to sidestep around him, but found himself nearly falling from a steep cliff.

He looked up to see if the man had stopped, but the man kept walking. Ignoring the perils which had just plagued him, Virgil continued onward, quickening his pace and lifting his legs through the knee high grass. Wait…grass? Grass had appeared? It was so heavy and thick now, he was practically swimming through it. Swimming through grass. Now _that_ was something.

The man was walking just as normally as he had before the grass had appeared, but Virgil wasn't as successful. He clumsily staggered within the blades, using his arms to keep his balance and maintain his pace all at the same time. For some reason, Virgil was out of breath, too, as though all of this walking proved to be a strenuous effort for him. It surprised the blonde soldier. Normally he was in good shape to do exercises like this.

But then he was trudging up a hill that ran almost completely vertical. Virgil couldn't see a sky, either, noting that it was neither daytime nor nighttime. In fact, he wasn't sure what time of day it was at all. However, the sky appeared to be a dark green, blurred by splotches of brown, like a hazy, yet irregular, kind of sky. The atmosphere left him a bit wary.

The man was still walking, holding a lit cigarette between his fingers, and looking straight ahead. Virgil was less than happy about having been left behind, but he kept up as best he could, jumping through the rest of the grass to follow the man continually up the hill. He thought he was screaming for a moment, but no sound left his mouth. It wasn't until Virgil was right behind the man did he thrust an arm out, catch the man's shoulder, and spin him around to face Virgil.

The blonde soldier realized how cold the man was. His skin was a pale blue and icicles hung from his bangs. Dark circles highlighted his sore, red eyes, and his pupils were dilated to almost nothing. Blood in massive amounts stained the front of his uniform and the whole inside of his mouth, trickling down his lips and chin. Virgil jumped back in terror when he saw the multiple holes in the man's body where he had been blown away, and blood flow without remittance. The blonde soldier forced himself to stare into the eyes of the dead man, who gave a red smile, blood coloring his teeth.

"How is it on the other side, Virgil?" he asked, blood spraying and hitting Virgil's face. The soldier shrieked and furiously used his arms to wipe the droplets from his face. But it wouldn't come off. He used his sleeves, clawing at his skin, while the other man laughed. "Don't you wish you were dead like me?" He brought his smoking cigarette to his bloody mouth and inhaled, all the while of his pupils growing smaller and smaller until nothing was left but pink colored eyeballs, veins becoming more enunciated than before.

The man reached out to Virgil, his skeletal hand grasping blonde soldier's shoulder and then gripping his uniform. With his other hand, the dead man dropped the cigarette to the ground and reached into his pocket for a box. "You know who I am, don't you?" The skin was peeling from the undersides of the man's cheeks. "It's your fault I died. It's _your_ fault that those Realians killed me." The skin dropped off in heavy clumps, leaving a bony structure mixed with guts and freshly exposed blood.

The words were unable to escape Virgil's closed airway, and he was pushed back by the dead man's fleshless hand. The blonde soldier felt his face grow numb and his spine twisted. He couldn't even breathe. The box that the skeletal figure revealed was a familiar brand name of cigarettes. Curtis Larson was back from the dead to forever haunt Virgil of his terrible tragedy.

"Maybe if I make you suffer," Curtis threw the box aside and reached up for the loose skin on his face, "you'll realize the pain of the living…" Ripping the fleshy tissue from underneath his eyes, he held it out for Virgil to see. The remaining skin was not enough to hide the pinkish whites of Curtis' eyeballs, their circular definition growing more apparent to Virgil's frozen form.

"I can make you _see_ then, Luis. I can make them _all _see." He rubbed the bloody guts on the side of Virgil's face and then opened his bleeding mouth wide. "This won't hurt…" And his jaws quickly clamped down on Virgil's jaw, teeth grinding in between his flesh, and Virgil screamed in agony as his own blood ran down his face.

Arms clawed at the figure on his face, but something was restraining the blonde soldier, calling his name and telling him to settle down. When he was finally able to throw Curtis' corpse from his body, he was welcomed to a world of darkness, screaming and thrashing about. Still, something held onto him and he threw his arms in rage, ignoring the throbbing in his muscles.

"Luis…! Luis!" a soft, yet firm, voice came, followed by a gentle hold on his shoulders. "It's all right, Luis. You were just having a nightmare."

The voice was unfamiliar, but somehow rang a slight bell. Virgil ceased his flailing for a moment to try and realize who was speaking to him and where he was. He couldn't see anything beyond his dark surroundings, and he clung to the arms that seemed to pull him from his horrid nightmare, breathing unevenly and sweat raining down his face.

When he leaned back, he could feel a warm body catch him, and he wrapped his arms around the tiny form, gasping for breath. _Where am I!? That…That was Curtis! Curtis was dead…He was dead back in the forest. But…but I'm not in the forest anymore. Where am I…?_

As his spiraling thoughts slowly pieced themselves back together, his mind gradually pulled back from that terrible world which was the subconscious and his eyes darted back and forth in the dark, still holding onto whatever it was that had rescued him from a near certain death. _Bed…Church…Darkness…Transplant…Realian…_

It was like the gears that had been turning in his head quickly stopped. The very thought ended his terrifying experience of a nightmare and began anew in the world that was present. Someone knew his name and, though they had saved him from the other side, was here holding him now. The voice was soft and kind, like a woman's.

Like a Realian's.

"What do you think you're doing!?" Virgil shouted, pushing himself away from the woman. He crawled to the other side of the bed, though his aching body protested, and he huddled himself into a ball. "Who told you to come in here!?"

He couldn't see the Realian's face, but he could hear her quick intake of breath, surprised at his sudden jerk and swift movements.

"You…You were having a nightmare," she explained. "I heard you screaming from the other room and I came in here to check on you." There was a pause before she added, "I thought that you were being attacked…"

"That's none of your concern!" the soldier barked, bringing his face down to his knees. "You have **no** right to _be_ in here! I don't want nor need your help!"

The Realian said nothing as Virgil took a deep breath, still shaking from the dream. _Curtis…Curtis was dead and told me that it was all my fault. It was all my fault that the Realians killed him. Realians…Realians like her…_

"Luis…" she said, sadly.

"Don't call me by name as though you're my friend!" he raged, blood boiling from beneath his cold, sweaty skin. "I want you to leave and _don't_ come back in here!" When she made no real attempt to remove herself from her bed, Virgil broke himself from the fetal position that he was in and lunged towards her. "_Leave!_"

She cried out, jumped up from the bed, and fled the room. He could hear her boots click against the stone floor and dash away from the room. After the door slammed shut, Virgil remained there on all fours, gathering his composure. _How dare she intrude…How __**dare**__ she!_ Growling, he collapsed back onto the bed and curled up into a little ball, still seething. _Curtis…I'm…I'm so sorry. I let you die._ Inattentively, he clenched one fist. _Those Realians will pay for it. They'll pay for your death! Even if I have to rip her apart first, I __**will**__ avenge you! I swear it!_

Shivering long after his traumatizing experience, Virgil was unable to fall back asleep for a lengthy period of time into the night. The only thing worth listening to was the sound of his fast paced heartbeat, a reminder of his existence which had outlived that of his friends and comrades. It had even outlived the life of his father. And now he was here in the dark, alone, suffering from the cold. He felt his body shiver upon the bed, realizing that he was cold and terribly hungry.

Still, no matter what, he would rather starve to death than eat anything made by a Realian. What they could make and then what they could truly take away. It made him sick! Everything he had ever cared about, save his mother, had been taken away from him. Thinking back on it now, he wondered why it had taken him so long to feel the way he did at that moment. There was such a hatred burning inside of his body that it seemed uncontrollable. That very pain that had festered ever since he was a child was building up and evolving into such an anger that was unstoppable. So eager was his passion to destroy the waste of life known as "Realian."

He loathed those creatures with all of his being. When he watched them take up arms against his comrades that day, and when he watched them murder Derek without any remorse, he wondered what he was doing here at all. _I __**should**__ be dead. This isn't fair._ And there was such a hollow feeling within his heart. He couldn't quite explain it, but it made the situation too hard to deal with. He wanted to feel cold, which was how his body already felt, but not how his _soul_ felt.

It longed for warmth and forgiveness, like the arms that had saved him from his monstrous nightmare had given him. _But that warmth came from a Realian. They don't offer any warmth. They don't offer any compassion or forgiveness. There's nothing there but brutality and ice. I can feel it on the back of my neck and it sends shivers up my spine._ Still, his mind and heart dueled. The heart knew what it wanted. It wanted to be warm. It wanted peace. Virgil disagreed.

Still, the thought pestered him and the cold was becoming too much to bear. Giving an exasperated sigh, he turned over, slowly used his bad arm to reach down, and grabbed the blanket he had kicked off earlier from off the floor. When he wrapped it around himself, an immediate warmth overcame him.

He cursed it with vengeance.

\/\/\/

The next morning, breakfast was waiting for him on the bed by his feet. He was awoken by a pungent smell, and he turned his head to see that a hot bowl of soup awaited him. Annoyed, he turned his head away and frowned. _I told her not to come back in here. What, is she deaf? Why does she __**insist**__ on irritating me?_ He decided to leave the food alone and leaned further into the blanket. _Wait…this blanket…She probably saw it on me. _Sighing, _She'd better not get any ideas. I don't care about any of them and I __**don't**__ want her hospitality. What a nuisance._

After a while, the door opened and a small set of footsteps entered. Virgil was already awake and listened intently. They were indeed _small,_ but not as soft paced as the Realian's had been. These were much faster and tinier, like a child's. He rolled over to see who it was.

When his eyes met the small girl's, his mind began to reel backwards like a fishing cast. _Short brown hair, a light blue dress, glasses…It's the kid I saw with the Realian yesterday. _"What do you want?" he blurted out, less than pleasant.

She stopped short, obviously startled by his abrupt movements, and clutched the ends of her dress with her tiny fingers. His eyes narrowed at her as he sat up in the bed, feeling slightly better this morning, he noted, and his back didn't hurt so much. His arms still ached, however, as the muscles were smaller and more tender, and definitely not welcome to being shot up.

"Well?" he pressured, grumpy from the lack of sleep from the night before. "Speak up, kid."

"Uh…" coming out of her shyness, the girl wandered up to him. "Feb wanted me to see if you were done eating so that I could take the tray for you."

"Yeah, I'm finished," he said, turning over on his side. "You can take it."

He knew what her face must've looked like and her silence confirmed it as she hovered over his still form. Virgil didn't care much. He was groggy and longed for sleep, despite the tension building in his stomach. It growled uncontrollably, though he tried his best to ignore it, but could not help himself from holding his stomach. He had not eaten in several days.

"But…you haven't even touched it," the girl protested. "Aren't you hungry?"

"Not particularly," he lied, gritting his teeth from the pain of his upset stomach. "Just…take it away. And tell that Realian not to make me anything else to eat. In fact, tell her not to come back in here at all."

"That's mean!" she cried and stomped a foot. "I won't tell her that!"

"Fine," Virgil hissed, fiercely closing his eyes as he rolled onto his side, but quickly bolted back at his side that quickly sent a surge of pain through his body. "Take the food and go then."

"Okay…" she sounded somewhat saddened by his harsh words, and Virgil could feel the weight of the bed becoming lighter as the tray was taken away.

From outside, he could hear several voices. The girl must've heard them, too, because her low steps became heavier and faster as she hurried from the room, carrying the tray.

"Oh!" was one of the last things Virgil listened to her say. "Feb! It's that man again!"

Heavier footsteps approached the door and the blonde soldier could feel someone looming in the doorway. Turning over onto his other side, he realized that the girl was gone and that the familiar man in green was standing there.

"Take a walk, Shion," he told the little girl, who was in the other room. "I'll have to tend to him for a little while."

"Okay!" came her bright, cheerful voice.

Virgil made a face as the man closed the door behind him and stepped into the room. "Virgil, how are you feeling?"

"I'd feel much better if people like you would stop bothering me."

"Bothering you?" the man's eyebrows heightened up further on his forehead and his jaw dropped slightly. "Surely you understand that we're just trying to help you."

"Bah," the soldier looked away.

"Febronia has been telling me that you aren't eating."

"What's it to you?" Virgil asked, sourly. "I told you already that despite what she's done for me, I owe nothing to her." Closing his eyes, he gave a long exhale and added, "Besides, I don't eat food prepared by Realians."

"That's quite harsh," the man said, setting down a medical kit on the table. He opened it and turned his eyes from Virgil. "She's gone through quite a bit to make sure that you heal properly. Even her creator is starting to question her actions."

Virgil bit down hard on his lip, but was thankful that the other man couldn't see him. _Her creator…? Is he telling me…she really __**has**__ been disobeying orders to tend to me?_ He quickly placed a nonchalant stare back onto his face when the man in green pivoted again, holding gauge and bandages._ Psh…It's a lie. All of it._

"I need to redress your wounds," the other man smiled. "I'm sure it won't be as much of a bother if you knew that wearing the same bandages for days on end can lead to infections."

"I know what it does," Virgil snapped and pushed himself into a sitting position in the bed. He tossed the blanket from his body and let it fall to the floor. The man watched him, curiously.

Then, keeping the same smile, he said, "That's _her _blanket, too. And you didn't mind using it?"

Gritting his teeth, Virgil turned his head. "Just change the stupid bandages already!" _Gods…It's not like I __**wanted**__ to use the bloody thing. I feel like I have foreign diseases all over my body now._

"Of course." The man's even temper was amazing to Virgil. The blonde _knew_ that he was being far less than kind, even to a man who helped save his life, but anyone who sided with Realians—especially U-TIC Realians—was never capable of being a friend of his.

The man pulled up the chair that was beside the bed and placed the medical kit on it. Then he seated himself behind Virgil, bandages next to him.

"Relax a bit," the man in green told him. "The stitches are probably still tender, so I apologize ahead of time if I end up hitting a sore spot."

"Whatever," Virgil blew a loose strand of hair from his face. "Just get it over with."

The soldier watched the clock on the wall as the minutes passed. He tried to disregard the bandages that were being unwrapped around his head and chest, and he definitely didn't want to stare at his horrendous wounds. The sight of his own blood made him uncomfortable, and only reminded him of how careless he had been in saving himself _and_ his friends. The thoughts discouraged him further and he found himself slumping over.

"Back straight, please," the man reminded him. Grunting, Virgil sat up again. "Are you sure that you don't want Febronia to do this for you? She might be a little more gentle than I."

"Don't _even_ mention that Realian around me," the soldier almost barked. "Besides, my slouching has nothing to do with you. I was just suddenly _reminded_ of why I'm _here_ in the first place…That's all."

"Let me guess," the other man laughed. "More hateful thoughts on Realians, right?"

"You know what? Just…shut up."

Again, the man went back to removing the bandages, applying some kind of cream to every wound, and then reached for the clean set of bandages. Virgil held still as one strand covered his left forearm, and he couldn't even move his right arm as the man dressed it. The skin was still painful to the touch, and the soldier shuddered as the memory of the bullet piercing his muscle was reenacted in his mind. When the man was finished wrapping the bandage around his chest and began on the wound on his side, Virgil had to look away altogether, grimacing upon the thought of his body being ripped apart by Realian artillery.

He was relieved when the final bandage around his head was pinned down and the gauge on his cheek was replaced by a new one. Glancing back at the clock, he frowned upon the half an hour the entire ordeal had taken. When the man handed the blanket back to him, Virgil merely scoffed and the man shrugged, setting it upon the chair behind him once he had cleared the medical kit from its place. Cleaning up his mess, he went to discard the old bandages, leaving a bitter Virgil to his silence. In the other man's absence, the soldier looked himself over, finally able to imbibe just exactly how _much_ damage had been inflicted upon him.

All of the bandages around his arms, torso, and head were enough for him to imagine how much of his own blood had been spilled, and how much struggle there had been to stitch him back together. He could almost visualize the grueling hours that had been spent in order to save his life, and how quickly everyone had to move in order to ensure his survival. There must have been a lot of grief going around the lot of them. But, for some reason, Virgil wasn't sure he cared.

A soldier's life is supposed to end with his men—with his _friends._ So why was he here now? A brief thought entered his mind and he remembered promising Derek that he would make it to the city. He would make it there and hand over the key that the main unit was anticipating so badly. Having that key would determine how easy it would be to take over Labyrinthos. Of course, it did _not_ decide whether or not there would be a Third Descent Operation. With or without this key, the Federation would continue their next move as planned.

Virgil cursed, realizing his lack of duties in the entire ordeal. How could he call himself a soldier when he was just lying here in some U-TIC Realian's bed? It was absurd. He pondered about what he should do, but the outcome was obvious. He couldn't move, no matter _how_ much he tried. He could barely stand up much less take a walk to the city. He growled, feeling the wave of uselessness wash over him. He wanted to scream. It just wasn't right, living this way.

When the man came back into the room, he was carrying a tray. Something was on the tray and it smelled delicious. For the first time in that short while that the man had been there, Virgil actually _wanted_ something from him. There was _food_ on that tray and it made his taste buds water. He eyed the contents hungrily, his fingers twitching and stomach growling with such longing. The man in green laughed as he set the food down in front of Virgil.

"I figured you might be hungry, so I prepared this before I came. I suppose it was somewhat of a good idea, especially since you refuse to eat Febronia's food."

"So…you made this, right?" Virgil pointed a finger at it. "That Realian didn't touch it, right?"

"No," the other man shook his head. "To you, it should be completely clean."

Without another word, Virgil dove in, grabbing the warm bowl with both hands, and, quickly placing the edge of the porcelain to his lips, allowed the soup to slip into his mouth, warming his tongue, and satisfying his hunger. He almost had begun to inhale the entire thing before the man stopped him with worry, telling him to slow down or else he'd choke. Virgil didn't care much for the man's warning, and did what he pleased. He regretted it shortly afterwards when he doubled over, coughing, after the soup had passed down the wrong tube.

"I told you that would happen," the man in green chuckled, repeatedly hitting Virgil's back, who was sputtering so hard, he thought his heart was going to burst. "Have some water to ease yourself."

Not having the opportunity to be told twice, Virgil reached for the water and gulped it down just as fast as he had the soup. He stopped coughing, but it didn't make him feel any better.

"It's your own fault," the man shrugged. "But at least you ate something. I suppose you're good to go now, eh?"

Virgil didn't say anything else, giving his stomach a chance to settle before he tried anything else that was stupid. Smiling, the man took the tray away, and left the room. The soldier watched him, sullen from his terrible experience with the food, but more discouraged upon the thought that he would not be able to eat again until the man came back. He didn't want to think in such a way, but Virgil _knew_ that he could count on the Realian more than _that_ man.

Still, he was a soldier and was used to not eating for several days. Of course, these were the statistics he could rely on when he was _well,_ and not all shot up by the enemy. With odds like that, he wasn't sure _how_ long he could last.

"This is just my luck," he groaned. "Having to get stuck getting taken care of by a _Realian_ of all things."

"Well, I'm just about done here." Virgil was startled back to reality. The man was standing above him, giving one more look around for anything that seemed out of place on the soldier. After a moment, he appeared satisfied when his arms crossed and eyes closed. "Hmmm…" he smiled. "You're recovering smoothly," then his face became stern, "but you should stay in bed for a while longer." _I knew it. _Virgil glared at the bed, though he had been anticipating the news all along. _In a way, he read my mind. What miserable fortune…_

Clutching the fabric of the mattress with one fist, the soldier made a low noise in the back of his throat and jerked his head upwards, shooting daggers at the other man. He had been suppressing his feelings for a while now, playing the role of the good patient and abiding by the doctor's rules, but the very thought of his comrades dying while _he_ stayed in bed being looked after by a _Realian_ no less was just enough to send him over the edge. And now, he wanted answers.

Cheeks budding with red, he spat back, "Like I needed _your_ help. Just who _are_ you people anyway?" Realizing that his voice was rising higher than the normal requirement of "indoor voices," Virgil sat back, forcing himself to calm down. "You aren't U-TIC and you aren't Federation…" Shaking his head, he finished, "But you act _too_ suspicious for mere civilians."

Casually blowing his question away, the other man replied, "I told you, you need to get some rest." He must have seen that Virgil was about to protest because he hastily added, "We can't reveal who we are for various reasons, but we _aren't_ your enemy. There's _no_ need to cause yourself unnecessary stress."

_What's he think he's talking about!? Why I'm gonna—_

The door suddenly opened, intruding on the conversation between both of the men. Two people entered, from what Virgil could see. One was a woman he barely remembered, and the other was the tiny girl in the blue dress from earlier.

"Shion?" the man in green turned towards the both of them.

"Wha…" For a moment, the woman in the white and purple jacket appeared confused. Then she just sputtered, jumping back to show the little girl. "Y-Yeah…I brought _Shion!_"

Then the man mirrored the same befuddlement. Their strange behavior did _not_ go unnoticed to Virgil, whose eyes darted back and forth between the two. _Yeah, they're hiding something. But __**what**__ is the question._

"Oh, r-right…" the man chuckled, though it was obvious that he was nervous. "Wh-What brings you here?"

The tiny girl brushed past the two and the other woman followed from behind. Stepping out of the way, the man in green waited by the end of the bed and watched the two with intensity. Virgil's eyes left the two others and fell upon the young child, who was standing next to him. There was something in her tiny hand and he watched her slowly push it in his face.

"Um, here!" It was obvious she was tense, but Virgil was just as surprised.

In her hand were three flowers, all of which were bloomed to perfection and each sporting a different color than the others. Their aroma quickly caught his nose, which twitched from the strong smell, and he stared from them to her. His eyes were wide and his jaw dropped. Several thoughts ran through his mind, including what an idiot he must've looked like just then. Losing his composure was something he never did. And the girl was offering him _flowers!_ He just didn't know what to quite make of the situation…nor was he sure that he wanted to do anything about it at all.

"Wh-What?" was all he could manage, not sure what to say. "Flowers?" he blinked, "For _me?_"

The girl seemed more confident now, a smile blossoming on her face as bright as the flowers. She looked at them with such love and tenderness, Virgil wasn't sure she wanted to part with them at all. But she said, "Yeah, they bloomed real pretty. It's so you'll get well!"

_Well? What…? What? _"What? You've gotta be _kidding,_" he pushed her hand away from him. "I don't need them."

For a moment, she looked hurt. Then she appeared as though she was going to cry. She just continued to stare at the tiny flowers in her little hand that she must've gone through so much trouble to carefully choose and pick for him, and rub her small nose with her other hand, sniffling. And for that _moment,_ Virgil knew he couldn't feel more like an ass than now.

It was true that he wasn't used to kindness, especially from all these people that he didn't know who were so intent on seeing him get well, and he could sometimes be more harsh than he meant to be. But he didn't want to see her cry on account of him, despite how stupid he thought the entire thing to be. He didn't really _want_ the flowers, either. However, one quick glance to the other two people in the room made him feel even worse.

_Man…this sucks…_ He watched her hand tremble, the flowers beginning to droop as she lowered her arm, and her face fell with such sorrow. "You won't take them?" came her small whisper.

For some unexpected reason, her diminished form before his eyes made his heart wrench in his very chest. "Ah, uh," he reached out to take the flowers from her fingers, "th-thanks."

Immediately afterwards, the girl's face brightened again and she clasped her hands together, believing she had done well to make the poor soldier happy. "You're welcome! I hope you get better soon!"

Looking downcast towards the flowers, Virgil tried his best to hide the scowl on his face, realizing how stupid he must've looked, sitting there with flowers in his hands. He cursed inwardly to himself. _This isn't me._ His discontentment was further exacerbated when he heard a soft chuckle emit from the woman in the jacket. Sharply, he glared up at her and barked, "What are _you_ laughing at!?"

"I'm sorry," she sobered up at the sight of his growing anger. "It's just…you looked so different from when we first met."

Calming himself and glancing back to the flowers in his hand, Virgil breathed in and said, "Well, _excuse_ me for looking _silly_ holding some flowers."

"Not at all," she shook her head, "You look good with them."

He cursed and was just about to reprimand her for her sarcasm when the door opened again and a woman stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind her.

"Sounds like you're having fun," she said, giggling softly. Her voice was gentle and kind and her eyes were bright and cheerful. Her kind demeanor appeared very much like the child Shion. However, the rest of her told a different story.

"Feb!" the child called out, obviously happy to see her friend.

The woman with the jacket stared at the Realian in the doorway with such awe, Virgil was sure she was falling into some kind of trance. _Or maybe it's just one more of those secrets I'm not allowed to know._ "Febronia…" she murmured, watching as the Realian padded into the room, still smiling.

"I'm glad you recovered," the Realian's eyes turned to Virgil and he could make out the distinct gold shine in them. He bit down on his lip. Although he had been cruel to her, she still had the gull to say such a thing. _Realians don't know any better. They obey protocol and that's it. She wouldn't notice if I slapped her upside the head._

She moved to his bedside, cream colored face still as delicate as it had been when he had first seen her through the window in her garden, singing. Hearing her voice now made him glower as he realized that even the way she sounded appeared just as fragile as the rest of her body. He cursed her designer, who created this effigy in woman's name. When she reached out to touch him, slender fingers breaking apart from each other to hold his arm, he swatted her away and gave her such a stare, it made her step back.

"Don't come any closer to me, Realian!" he shouted, taking all of them by surprise.

"Virgil!?" he heard the woman in the jacket gasp.

He turned his head to stare at the woman and pointed to the Realian with one hand. "That's a U-TIC Realian," he informed them, assuming that maybe _some_ of them weren't aware of her identity. When he saw that none of them were fazed by his words, he realized that they were already aware of it. _They know and don't__** care!?**_ He shook his head violently, thoughts of Derek and Curtis being ripped apart by the Realians clouding him. "Do you know how many of my comrades _died_ because of _them!?_"

"Virgil, stop it," the woman in the jacket scolded, somehow successfully imitating his glare. He was impressed, but it didn't change his mind. "She _saved_ your life!"

_I __**know**__ that! That's the worst part!_ "I didn't _ask_ for that!" he barked back, jerking his attention back to the Realian, who didn't care to hide the fact that she was hurt by his words. "It makes me _sick,_" he continued, but he was talking to the woman named "Febronia" now, "thinking I've got a part of you in me!" Then, staring at his own hands, he bellowed, "If I could move right now, I'd _kill_ myself."

Gripping the frame at the end of the bed, the woman in the jacket leaned over, peering at him with black, angry eyes. She flared up as she glowered at him, and he watched her with slight curiosity. "Virgil! That's enough!" came her infuriated voice, and she pounded the frame with a balled fist.

_She thinks she can intimidate __**me?**_ Leaning forward so that he was on his knees, Virgil rose to her challenge of deathly scowls and hurtful words, wanting to prove to her that she was the _last_ person _he_ was scared of. "This is _none_ of your business," he spat back, dark rings forming under his eyes.

The fight was interrupted when Febronia stepped forward again, hands clasped at her chest. "Please don't say such sad things," she beseeched. "Everyone worked so hard to save your life." Then, eyes downcast and shoulders slightly uptight, she added, "Please don't speak so lightly about throwing it away."

Her silly words prompted a bitter chuckle from Virgil. He immediately returned a harsh stare and seated himself back onto his bottom, realizing that his knees couldn't take much pressure on them. He didn't show the pain. Instead, he asked, "What would a _Realian_ know about the value of _human life?_"

There was a slight hesitance in her face and she turned away for a moment, drinking in his pitiless words. "It's _true_ that I'm a Realian," she whispered, fumbling with the ends of her dress. "We were created to serve human beings." When her eyes managed to reach Virgil's again, she said, "My sisters are going through painful experiments for that purpose."

_Sisters?_ Virgil snorted. _Realians don't have kin. Why does she refer to them that way?_ She paused for a moment, apparently thinking upon the memory of her "sisters." Her eyes grew distant and sad, but she never once appeared angry.

"But I feel no hatred for human beings," she continued, "because it is the _proof_ that we exist."

"Give me a break," he chortled, leaning his head back. "A _proof_ you _exist?_" Waving his hand at her with such skepticism, Virgil said, "That's just how you've been programmed."

The Realian's eyes fell again, and all light and smiles were gone. It was something he had taken from her. Her hope. He had taken her hope just like she had taken his friends. "It's fine if you feel that way," she told him, forlornly. "But my feelings right now are more than just a _program._"

For the first time, she retaliated with a look of her own, but it wasn't resentment or anger.

It was determination.

_What a strange way to respond…_ Virgil stared at her, his bitter thoughts fleeting for just a moment. This Realian was an odd one and unlike any other he had ever met. With Virgil's occupation being what it was, he had met a _lot._ All had been combat Realians, but, in his eyes, Realians were Realians. No different at all. They talked of numbers, strategies, and their programs rather than emotions. There was no such thing as "heartfelt compassion" from a Realian.

Still, her response took him aback. He hadn't known that any kind of Realian could respond that way. None at all. He especially hadn't known it when they had cruelly blown his friends away, who had been defenseless and without strength to fight. If she had seen the way her kind had killed them, would she still feel the way she did right now?

"Huh?" Virgil blinked. "Your _feelings?_"

"I want you to _live._" She was moving closer to him again, and he could feel a slight burning in his chest.

He tried to ignore it—pass it off as hatred. But her words cut through him like nothing he had never known. It wasn't like a knife or a gun, but more like a river, clearing away the sticks and stones in a dam. Was it…refreshing? She was going to touch him.

"Tch…" Quickly turning over onto his side to avoid her touch, Virgil muttered, "I'm starting to feel sick. I'm gonna sleep." He rested his head on the mattress and closed his eyes in order to sever the conversation. He could still feel the Realian's eyes upon him.

"Feb…" he heard the woman in the jacket blurt out.

However, Febronia didn't seem to be finished with Virgil as she added, "We would _never_ want people to suffer."

From his position on the bed, the soldier growled, remembering the way Derek had suffered when he had died. He remembered the way that Curtis and the rest of his unit had suffered when the vehicle had blown up because of Combat Realians. Whatever this Realian was preaching about, she really had no _clue_ about what the real world was.

"I know," the woman agreed. "We'll come to understand each other someday."

\/\/\/

The man in green cleared everyone out of the room once it was apparent that Virgil had nothing more to say to anyone and had turned over to fall asleep. When the door closed for the final time and silence enveloped the room, the soldier opened one eye and then, slowly, the other to keep from being caught and scolded again. The only things he could hear were the crackling fireplace next to the bed (he figured that the Realian had lit it earlier that morning), the clock on the wall, and his own heartbeat.

He wasn't exactly _tired_ anymore like he had been before, _per se,_ and he couldn't remove his thoughts from the words of the Realian, who seemed to have a lot to say, but probably had no idea _what_ she was saying. Her words lingered there in his mind, and it surprised him about the context in which those words were used. Feelings…life…suffering…It was all too confusing. Up until this moment, he believed that all Realians were the same. They all possessed the same innate potential and want to kill and destroy.

They couldn't be reasoned with and they _certainly_ held no compassion. His want…his _passion_ to rid the universe of those things seemed to spiral for a moment. _I'm growing too soft…_ Virgil frowned. _Get a hold of yourself, Luis! You see a pretty face and listen to something you __**want**__ to hear and your entire mission falls apart!_

He was interrupted by voices coming from the other room. Relieved to be broken from this silence, he sat up again, trying to eavesdrop. From what he could figure, the male voice belonged to his so-called "doctor," and the other woman was the one who wore the jacket. After a moment, he could hear a child, and he knew it was that kid Shion's voice.

_I wonder what they're talking about now…_ He slowly slid his legs off of the bed and onto the floor. _Man…I remember doing this yesterday…I wonder if my body is in any better condition to handle it…_ Without hesitance, he pushed himself up from the bed and stumbled over to the desk, which he caught himself easily on. Giving a moment to rest, he looked around for his next move.

Gently walking himself to the cabinet beside the desk, he leaned against it, halting again to catch his breath, and used the wall behind him for support as he staggered across the floor towards the door. It was easy, he found, especially when most of his body weight was being used against the wall anyway. The voices were growing louder, and so was his curiosity. Careful not to trip across the table on the other side of the room, he grabbed the hinges of the door with one hand, and held the knob with the other.

Turning it just a quarter of a turn, he cracked it open to hear out into the other room.

"Let's pray now, Shion," was the first thing he heard. He recognized it as Febronia's voice.

"What are you going to pray for, Feb?" the child asked.

Virgil leaned in closer, listening for her answer.

"For my dear sisters," she replied. "Please grant them a wonderful future."

The soldier shifted his weight to his other leg to avoid any pain. _She still refers to them as "sisters." You'd think she'd know better._

"I see," little Shion said. "Will I get to play with Cecily and Cathe again?"

Virgil paused. If what the Realian had said was true, those Realians would never see the light of day again. Once a Realian had a purpose, its mission was to _fulfill_ that purpose, whether it be fighting and dying in combat, or living out the rest of its life as an experiment. He was certain that even Febronia knew that.

"Yes, they're both looking forward to seeing you again."

_Why does she go on like that and lie to the child?_ The soldier's eyes fell to the wooden floor in thought. _The specialty of a Realian is that they can sense each other's pain. If that Realian's "sisters" are her clones, then, no doubt, she can feel their pain, too. She should know better than anyone else that her sisters aren't coming back._

"What are you going to pray for?" the Realian asked Shion.

"For mom to get better soon," the child answered. "And for the soldier to get better, too!"

Virgil was taken aback by such words. It hadn't been the first day he had felt like that either. He hated to be taken by surprise, and he hated for it even more that the _child_ whom he had almost made cry earlier was giving him her prayers. He wanted the thought to make him sick, but he felt…flattered? What the—

"That's a good idea. Let's pray together."

That was the last that Virgil heard of the conversation, but not the last that he thought of it. Carrying himself back to bed, he stayed awake a while longer with heavy thoughts weighing upon his mind.

\/\/\/

Wow. Virgil is such an ass in this chapter. …Makes me want to give him a swift nutcrunch. LOL. Hope you liked! RnR please!


	4. She Wants To Know Him Better

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Virgil, Febronia, or Xenosaga, AS MUCH AS I WISH I DID lol.

**A/N:** Thanks to all of my reviewers! Don't worry. Virgil will get his act together, or Febronia will have a say about it. Heh, heh.

**So from now on,** I'll be writing my stories in **order of importance.** If you want to see more of **this story,** please review and tell me so, or vote in the poll on my author's page. Thanks much!

\/\/\/

**Nothing Like Romeo and Juliet**

**Chapter Four**

\/\/\/

She tried twice more that day to feed the soldier, but he refused her and her tray of food. Quite desperate at this point, she ventured out to find the man in green, who was stationed at his large, green ship behind Dabyre Mine. She pleaded for him to come out to tend to the soldier again, for he was unwilling to be around her at all.

"He'll have to learn," the man's eyes narrowed with irritation, "that all forms of life _must_ be treated with consideration. However, for now, I'll come out to tend to him because he has only just awoken and I won't treat his body unfairly because _he_ refuses to cooperate."

"Thank you very much," Febronia bowed slightly.

He followed her out to the church that night and prepared food for the soldier, Febronia, and himself. She talked to him for a while about little things, but never about anything that concerned his name or personal life. She understood that his privacy was important to him and that he wanted to keep it that way. She talked little of herself just because she found that her identity was not of question to his thinking. He treated her just like a woman and nothing less.

As she had expected, the soldier would eat the man's cooking, and she watched him eat from the shadows, noting how impatient and quick his movements were, as though he had been starved for a long time. It made her feel guilty that she could not be of more service to him and his recovery, but she did not hold any resentment towards him. His hatred of Realians was a personal issue that he had to deal with himself. She could not possibly understand what drove him.

The man in green informed her a few days before that his name was Luis Virgil, a Federation soldier sent to the frontlines to prepare for the oncoming war. He did not go into much detail or explain how he knew the man's name, and Febronia didn't ask either. Luis, on the other hand, was a name that she found very nice and repeated it to herself several times. She thought that perhaps she'd begin to call him by name and that he would finally understand that she treated him as an equal, hoping he would see her the same way, too.

Before the man left, Febronia heard him talk to Luis through the door and scold him for his behavior towards her. Luis merely grunted and said nothing.

"She asked me to come here because she knew that you would have nothing to do with her," the man in green told the soldier. "If she had wanted to, she could've left you this way, but she knew that you wouldn't recover properly. She is worried about you…"

"Tell her I don't need her concern," Luis barked back.

When the man left the door, he appeared angry. His cheeks were a swollen red and his eyebrows were greatly arched.

"Tomorrow is the last day I'm coming here to feed him," he told Febronia. "If he wants to act like a child, then a child he shall be treated as." Shaking his head, he said, "I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do."

"It's all right," Febronia replied, though a bit saddened. "I can only hope that he comes to accept me before he starts to suffer too badly…"

Giving her a weak smile, he left her alone.

For those past few days, Febronia had spent her nights in the front room of the church, taking to a bench close to the front so that the large statue of the angel was looking down upon her. Before settling herself under her single pillow and blanket for the night, she'd kneel down to pray. She prayed for Shion and her happiness, despite the absence of her mother. She prayed for peace for her sisters, in which her heart wrenched in sync to their pain and cries for the experiments of man. And she prayed for Luis.

She prayed that he would find his way, whatever way that might be, and that he would be happy. She prayed that he would recover healthily and be able to walk about again and see his companions. But, most of all, she prayed that she and him could become friends. She wished for that ever so much. She was intrigued by this newcomer, despite his harsh attitude towards her. She knew that, deep down, there was a side to him that no one else could see. It was a kinder, gentler side that perhaps he, himself, was unaware of.

Febronia _wanted_ to believe in this side of him.

She was curious to understand what had turned him so cold. It had to have been something painful, she was sure, but it hurt her to think that all of his anger had been sparked because of Realians. She wanted to know why. She hoped that before he left this church forever that he would tell her. It would be nice, she thought, to as least understand that.

Though she never showed it and never told anyone, she got lonely living in the little church by herself. It was hard to be at Labyrinthos most of the time when the place reminded her of where her sisters were forcefully taken from her side. A man named Sergius XVII, a holy man as he called himself, ordered that the two transgenic Realians fulfill their duty as the core of the system in order to control U-DO. That was almost a month ago.

Now she lived here in their memory, wishfully thinking and hoping that they would come back. Though she was taking their absence hard, Shion had taken it harder. When she came to this part of Miltia to treat her mother, she knew no one. She had met Febronia at the church one day when she wandered off from her father and the Realian was picking flowers in the garden.

She taught Shion many things, as she had her sisters, like to pray and how to garden. For a while, Febronia was the older sister of all of the children, and she wasn't lonely. She was scolded, yes, by Joachim for not tending to her duties as she should, but Febronia was different from other models. Her creator often spoke of dismantling and rearranging her program, but he never went through with it. It was because he had other things to tend to, such as his daughter, Sakura, and her wellbeing. Besides, she was certain he knew about her relationship with the three girls, even though he never admitted to it.

Joachim Mizrahi was not the martyr he portrayed himself as.

In fact, he had been somewhat reluctant to proceed with the terrible experiment involving Cecilia and Catherine, her sisters, even though he had known from the time of their creation what they were going to be used for. He knew of Febronia's sadness, but there was nothing he could do.

"You are a special transgenic Realian designed for the Zohar connection experiments," he reminded her after she had been forced to cruelly watch her sisters be taken away. "You _must_ understand, Febronia. Cecilia and Catherine have their roles to fulfill. Learn the same for yourself."

She spent more time away from Labyrinthos after that, despite Joachim's orders. She and Shion still were together all the time and she tried not to be sad for the child's sake. Shion was taking her friends' leaving much harder than Febronia. It was the way of the child, the Realian knew. She had to be unselfish and more supportive during these hard times. But it did not ease her loneliness any less.

Now that the soldier was here, it made her happier. Even though he was distant and harsh, he was still here. He was still some_body._ He appeared hurt and perhaps even betrayed. Sometimes, she felt that way, too. They weren't so different after all…or, at least, _she_ thought so.

_Maybe one day he'll think so, too,_ she thought as she tucked herself into bed.

One day things would be different and time would heal those wounds. She hoped so in order to belief in the future of that "one day."

But it would be hard, as she realized all too early. She was awoken by a terrible scream and it didn't take long to realize that it was coming from her bedroom where Luis slept. Febronia threw off her covers and dashed through the door, becoming witness to his thrashings and shouts. Oblivious to what had happened the night before, she seated herself beside him, holding her arms around his chest and calling out to him to wake up.

His nightmare must have been extremely upsetting and full of torment to make the man cry out as he did. She could only hold his sobbing form close to her, rocking back and forth, gently raking her fingers through his blonde locks. It warmed her heart when she felt him reach around her to grab back, burying his face into the fabric of her dress like a broken little boy who had fallen and hurt himself.

He was dreaming, she also knew, and she kept in mind that she was an unwelcome guest in his territory. But it didn't matter. She couldn't stand to watch him suffer from an inescapable world that tore at his already wounded heart. Despite what he thought of her, she would not leave him in that world to be alone. She allowed him to cry into her lap, holding her so tight, she wasn't sure if he was ever going to let go. He was like that for a while longer before the sobbing stopped and his face lifted.

And she wasn't surprised when he tore himself away from her, screaming for her to get out of the room and to never come back in. It didn't hurt her in the slightest. And the reason was because she had already seen him for what he really was. No matter what he said now…no matter how he tried to act in front of her, he was still human. He could cry and he could feel pain, and he could long for comfort and warmth just as any other human could.

When he held her in his nightmare, it was genuine. There was no hatred for her for who she was. She was warmth. She was _his_ warmth. He had needed her because he had been in pain. And she didn't mind. Febronia closed the door behind her and sat down on the other side of it, listening to his heavy breathing and coughing. She imagined that he was wiping tears away from stained cheeks now and straightening his disheveled blankets. And she was almost certain that he wouldn't sleep again for the rest of the night.

She didn't, either.

\/\/\/

"Like this, Feb?"

Little Shion was wearing her pink gloves and squatting down above the dirt to dig in it with her tiny hoe. The Realian stood above the child, seeds in her hands.

"Yes, that's a wonderful job, Shion." Febronia held out a packet in her hands, "Make sure you scatter them all over the plot so they grow up together and bloom all alongside each other. Even flowers need friends."

"Yeah! I'll plant them all right here!" The little girl took the open packet, turned it upside-down, and sprinkled the seeds into the dirt. Febronia watched her, smiling. When Shion looked back, she handed the child another packet.

"There will be plenty of colors here," Feb said. "Afterwards, we'll plant some on the other side of the gate, all right?"

"Can I water them, Feb?" Shion reached over for her little pink canteen that had a cute bunny on it. "Can I?"

"Of course."

"You two seem to be having a good time."

At the sound of a third voice, Febronia glanced up to see the familiar man in green approaching them from behind. He was carrying a bag.

"Hi, mister!" Shion waved her dirty gloved hand in the air.

"Oh, hello there," Feb welcomed and left Shion's side for the moment. "Your friends aren't with you today."

"Yes, I thought I'd make the journey here by myself. I'm just doing the normal checkup anyway." Then his face became more serious. "How has he been?"

Looking over at the child, who had just begun to work at her tiny garden again, Febronia's eyes dimmed and her face fell. "He's been…having nightmares," she confessed. "I'm almost certain that they have to do with the time that he was brought here. His friends must have died."

"It's not uncommon for soldiers to have nightmares," his face looked distant and melancholy. "I wouldn't be surprised if your prediction is right."

"He won't let me help him through them," she continued, the subject touchy to tread upon. "He continues to push me out of the room."

"I see." His eyes closed. "There's probably more to this than we understand, but it's still no excuse for his behavior." He walked past her, "I'll see what I can do."

"Be easy on him," Febronia called out. "I know he doesn't mean what he says."

Giving a low whistle, he nodded. "I know he doesn't either." He left the two outside.

She watched him retreat inside, many thoughts weighing heavily on her mind. Part of her naïvely wished that this man could talk Luis into finally giving her help a chance. But part of her also knew that wishful thinking was just that—wishful thinking.

"Your vows you've broken, like my heart. Oh, why did you so enrapture me? Now I remain in a world apart, but my heart remains in captivity."

Startled, Febronia whirled around to a humming Shion, who was blissfully digging in her small garden, happy as a clam. She was patting down the dirt, nodding her head from side to side. She was just so happy that it was soothing to look at her. A child who could be so innocent and carefree in the world that was around her while everything else refused to be as happy, it made Febronia remember what it was she was living for. Not because she was created for a purpose, but to live for a purpose she created for _herself._

"Come on, Feb," the little girl called out. "It's your turn to sing the next verse. You said you were gonna teach it to me, remember?"

"That's right," she breathed, closing her eyes, mind reeling backwards. _It will be a good distraction, I suppose…_ "I have been ready at your hand," she sang, "to grant whatever you would crave. I have both wagered life and land, your love and good-will for to have."

\/\/\/

For two nights afterwards, Febronia was at Luis' side, his nightmares still as harsh as before, and for two nights she was thrown out of the room by his consistent rage. She didn't mind. Every night, in the midst of his troubled slumber, he would cling to her waist, crying, and he would wake up, screaming. She knew that he needed someone more than he thought.

"Stress levels have risen twelve percent, performance is down by six percent, and vitals are slowing. Febronia," Kevin turned his head from the monitor, "what's going on, anyway? This isn't the report I want to give Professor Mizrahi."

"I'm sorry, Kevin," Febronia lowered her head in shame. "I suppose I've been so busying tending to the soldier that I haven't been paying my body much mind lately."

"Well, this needs to improve," he gestured to the screen with his hand. "If anything seems out of the ordinary, they're going to get suspicious."

"I know."

"Gah," rolling his eyes, Kevin folded his arms over his chest, his legs apart slightly. "Febronia, I _know_ that you've been more entertained with taking care of that soldier and it makes you even happier to know you have an excuse to stay at the church all the time, but could you please _try_ to pretend that you _care_ about this organization?"

She gaped a bit, trying to think of something to say, but the younger boy moved past her.

"I'll be so happy when that guy leaves. He's caused us nothing but trouble by having you take care of him. Don't be so foolhardy, Febronia. U-TIC can catch on _real_ quick if you're playing behind their backs. I don't want to be the one who gets into trouble, but I don't want to be the one who has to turn you in, either."

"I'm terribly sorry, Kevin," she apologized again. "I promise I'll give you a better report to transport to the Professor next time."

"You'd better," he told her. "Tell the girl that her father wants to see her."

_Shion…he means Shion._ "Right. I'll do that."

When she left the city and walked back to the church, she was alone. Shion went home with her father, and the man in green was no longer there when she had returned. _He must've told the soldier that he isn't coming back this time…_ It was a dreadful thought. She didn't want Luis to starve, but she knew that there was no other way to get him to eat unless the food was human created.

She wandered into his room to clean, and he was already awake, looking groggy and irritable.

"I didn't call for room service," he pointed out.

"This is my room, too," she answered softly. "I'd like to keep it clean as much as possible."

He snorted and turned his head to look at the fire.

"Are you cold?" she asked, diverting her attention from the washcloth in her hand. "If you'd like, I can add more wood to strengthen it."

"No."

"All right," she went back to what she was doing. Febronia dusted the top of her desk and the sides of the bookshelf, humming all the while. After some time, she had grown used to his presence and found that she was no longer uncomfortable to be in the same room as him. Unfortunately, he did not feel the same way.

"Could you _stop_ that?" he spat out, hunched over near the screened fireplace.

"You don't like my singing, Luis?" she asked.

His eyes widened and he stared at her with utmost disbelief, like he couldn't believe what she had just said. "What did you call me?" Before she could reply, his eyes darkened and he bitterly said, "I've told you before, do _not_ call me by my first name. You aren't any friend of mine, and you don't have the right to call me by name. Do you understand that, Realian?"

Something went through her, like a dagger. It was cold and cruel. "A-All right…" she broke her eyes from his, feeling extremely ashamed. "What can I call you then?"

"Nothing. I don't even want you _talking_ to me."

"O…Okay…" her voice was reduced to a frail whisper and she went back to cleaning. Somehow, she couldn't bring herself to look at him again for the rest of that day.

But that night, during his usual nightmare, she was back in his room, holding him and calming him, and he threw her out of the room once _again_ without surprise. It went on that way every day and every night. If anyone went in at all, it would be anyone but _her_. The man in green kept his promise and did not come back the next day to feed the soldier. However, Shion came over and brought some warm soup her father had made her.

"I'll give it to the soldier," she told Febronia when she first arrived. "Daddy made it special, so I'm sure it tastes wonderful."

"That's very sweet of you, Shion," the older woman told her, patting the girl's back. "He'll like that very much."

Shion wandered in, leaving the door open, and Febronia peeked inside, unable to resist temptation.

"Here," the child held out the thermos to him. "This is for you."

"What's inside of it?" he asked, almost warily.

"Chicken noodle," she responded, watching him take the warm container from her hands. Then she offered him a spoon. "My daddy made it for me."

"Then maybe you should take it back," he gave her a hard look. "I don't need any trouble for taking a kid's lunch."

"No, no," Shion stepped back. "I _want _you to have it. Besides, Feb and I always cook together on Friday nights."

"Is that so?" he cocked an eyebrow. "Whatever, I'll eat it later." He handed the thermos and spoon back to her. "Just put it on the desk over there, okay?"

She slowly took it from him and shuffled over to the table.

Febronia stared at Luis in wonderment. He appeared indifferent to such matters, but she caught a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. She slid in a little closer to watch him.

"Thanks," he mumbled after a moment.

"You're welcome!" Shion skipped back to his bed and looked at him. "Say, Mr. Soldier, wanna watch me play a game my daddy taught me? It's an ancient game that used to be played long ago, but he said that it's a fun game. Wanna see? Wanna see?"

He sighed and shook his head. "Do I have a choice?"

"I'm really good though," she danced around his bed, much to his annoyance, it seemed. "No one can beat me!"

"Tch…" he propped his chin on his hand and watched her. "Well? Less talking, kid. You'd better be able to put your money where your mouth is."

"Huh? Money?"

"Never mind. It's just an expression."

Shrugging it off, she moved back to the table and reached for a blue, porcelain vase that was slid all the way in the back. Febronia's eyes followed Shion's small form, standing on her tip toes and stretching her fingers in order to reach it. She felt the need to help the child, but if she was caught, she was afraid that she'd anger Luis and ruin the child's chances of becoming friends with him. _He hates me and that's enough._

"Don't break it," he told her. "If you do, you'll have to clean up the mess."

"I won't break it," she finally clasped the base and brought it towards her, the sound of porcelain scuffling against wood resounding in the room.

Lifting the lid from the jar, she turned and dropped everything inside of it to the floor. A small, rubber ball bounced onto the floor and several metal objects dropped, making an echoing clank.

"Jacks," Luis voiced, though it was slightly muffled by the hand in which his chin was perched upon. "My father taught me this game."

"Really?" she whirled around, vase in hand still. "What's your record? Mine's seven."

Rolling his eyes at her words, he replied, "Fourteen."

"What?" her jaw dropped and eyebrows lifted high in wonder. "No way! You're not telling the truth!"

From behind the door, Febronia smiled. She had seen Shion play the game a few times before, though she had no idea how to play herself. She wondered if Luis' record really _was_ fourteen, or if he was just telling the child that.

"If you're going to play, hurry up and do it," he commanded.

Continuing to stare at him for a moment longer, little Shion turned to put the vase back onto the table and she squatted down, collecting the rubber ball and the jacks. She set them up accordingly, bounced the ball, grabbed the jacks, and looked back to Luis.

"That's pathetic," he told her. "You're slower than a snail."

"I can do better," she tossed back in a huff. "I'm still warming up."

"Sure," he blew air through his lips. "Listen, kid, if you want to do it right, take your hand through a sweeping motion. The movement is more fluid and you'll be a lot cleaner in your swipes."

Shion bounced the ball again, tried to do as he said, and asked, "Like that?"

"No," she watched him. "More like this," he curved his arm and brought it through the air. Then his eyes met with hers, making sure that she was paying attention. "Try again."

She did. When the ball bounced and Shion swept her arm, she knocked the jacks all over the place.

"You're trying too hard." Virgil bounced an imaginary ball and then quickly followed it with a sweep. "It's as simple as that."

Determined to master Virgil's "secret sweep" maneuver, little Shion gathered up all of the jacks, grabbed the ball, and tried again. She bounced the ball grabbed the jacks, and realized that she had captured one more than the last time.

"Good," Virgil nodded. "It's a start, I guess."

Febronia found herself smiling as she observed them together. Shion would play and he'd point out how she could be better. The child begged him once to play, and Febronia was stunned to hear his response.

"I'm sort of mangled up right now. But once I get out of this bed, I'll play a round with you."

"Promise?"

"Yeah, all right."

Eyes shining, the woman turned to leave them to their entertainment while she ventured out to her garden on the hill to pick flowers.

\/\/\/

She thought her arrangement would look lovely in the vase in her room, but she wasn't sure how Luis would react to them. He kept Shion's flowers stuffed under his pillow, strangely enough, but he hadn't discarded them yet, so it _had_ to count for _something._ However, he wasn't fond of anything she brought him, so she decided to keep them out in the front of the church where everyone could see them.

Febronia pushed herself back down the hill, humming to herself as she carried the bundle in both hands. The shade from the leaves above kept her cool from the beating sun above in the cloudless sky. From all around her, birds chirped and small land animals crawled about, scurry to find food or just to play with each other. The view of the crushed gates leading to the church was up ahead, followed by the newly born garden plots that she and little Shion had created.

Wandering into the church, Febronia opened to the door leading into where Shion and Virgil last were. A sudden thought passed her mind that the child might have already gone home with Kevin. If that were so, then she would be left alone with Luis, which could be a good or very bad thing. Slowly walking in, her eyes drifted to the corner of the room where she knew that he'd be, sleeping most likely.

But he wasn't there.

The bed was disheveled, the blanket pulled back, and Luis was gone. Febronia dropped the flowers from her hand, sudden thoughts overwhelming her. Was he okay? Did something happen? Was he even still alive? Whirling around, she darted from the room, looking around frantically for the missing soldier, whom, she assumed, had gone outside.

There weren't any signs of a break-in or a fight, so Luis had probably left of his own will. _But he shouldn't be out of bed right now! He's still wounded!_

She stared out into the aisle of benches, worriedly searching for the life form that was the injured soldier, but seeing no one.

She felt prompted to call him by name, but remembered his sudden anger. Instead, she thought of what little Shion had referred to him as earlier. "Mr. Soldier?" she called out. She waited for a moment, but expected the silence. Even her sensors weren't picking up his waves. Slowly moving to the side door of the large room of the church, she unlocked it and stepped outside, the brightness of the sun overtaking her eyes.

"Where are you?" Febronia held her breath as she scanned her surroundings. Her sensors read nothing beyond the pine trees and fallen stone wall. A lone, broken bench was out by the newly constructed gardens, and the grass around the church slightly swayed with the passing breeze. Still, there was no sign of Luis.

Walking out into the grass, ignoring the soft sound that her boots made while she crossed the side of the church, she searched behind the sycamores and vines in the forest. She wasn't sure if he would dare to go out very far in the condition he was in, unless a comrade of his had already found him. She felt her heart fall with the thought. Still, she pushed herself forward, following the crumbling wall that held the church in its cozy vicinity until she finally found its break and was gazing out beyond the flowing river and bridge.

She recognized the sound of the water colliding with rocks and the edge of the banks, and it inattentively brought herself forward to its base, looking down into the crystal stream below. _Could he…could he have fallen in?_

Then there was a splash and Febronia's attention was directed to the bridge. Hesitant, she padded towards it, staring out past it, curious as to what she would find. Her hands grasped the wooden rails of the bridge once she stepped onto the planks, and she was leaning forward. There, in the middle of the stream was a bobbing figure. Febronia blinked several times, as though believing her eyesight to be deceiving her, and glued her attention to the blonde form as it swam to the shores of the river, grabbed a rock, and began to pull its body onto it.

With a bit more scrutinizing, she realized it to be a man, and her cheeks instantly budded red when she established the unclothed human to be none other than Luis Virgil. His back was towards her, his upper torso out of the water as he held himself on the rock and violently shook his head, water spraying everywhere. Febronia quickly held her hands over her eyes in such embarrassment, but couldn't resist peeking out two of her fingers to see him try to climb onto the rock. Looking slightly to the left of him, she realized he had set his pants, boots, and bandages there.

He was an extremely shaped man for being so young. His arms were cut with near perfect definition and the strain he put onto them as he lifted himself up onto the rock was shown through his muscles, which stiffened, but appeared strong enough to hold his body weight. His shoulders shifted forward as his back rounded, the rivets of his spine surfacing through his skin as he worked to climb up onto the rock. The water dripped from his body and the ends of his hair. She gasped when the rest of his backside emerged from the water, his legs fighting for a foothold on top of the rock.

Jerking his head around, Luis saw Febronia on the bridge. He gave a loud curse and dropped back into the water, giving her the will she needed to look away. _Still…he's a very handsome man. I wonder if he knows that?_

"What do you think you're _doing!?_" he screamed at her, hugging his body with his arms, hiding under the currents of the water. "Don't you know that it's _rude_ to walk in on someone bathing!?"

"W…Was that…" she stammered, still red in the face. "Was that what you were doing?"

"Wha?" Luis shook his head, furious. "Are you _stupid!?_ If I'm here naked in the river, then _yes,_ that means I'm _bathing._ You don't just _stand_ there and have a spectator's fest!"

"I...I only now just got here…" she hastily defended herself. "Honest. I wasn't peeking and I didn't know you were here…" He groaned and moved towards the river's edge again. "I…I was looking for you because you weren't in your room…"

"Do you _mind_ turning away for a moment so that I can get dressed here?"

"Oh…C-Certainly…" Febronia quickly spun around, covering her head with her hands. _I can't __**believe**__ that I did that. He must be so angry…_ She waited a moment, listening to the rustling that sounded like clothing, and held her breath. _I feel so bad. I don't think he can forgive me for something like this…_ "I…uh…has Shion come by yet today?"

"No," he snapped.

Febronia stood there, looking back over at the church that was only a short distance away. Using it to distract her, she began to trace the outline of the back wall with her eyes. Still, she could hear the man behind her cursing and muttering things underneath his breath. She shuffled a bit, nervously, her fingers fumbling with each other. Febronia began to feel awkward, standing like that, and eventually whirled around, but at thought of him still being undressed she spun back to face the church.

Then there was a slightly different sound coming from behind her. She slowly turned this time and watched as he was attempting to wrap a bandage around his bare back. He was wearing pants, though, and that made her feel better about staring. He was struggling, and she heard him grunt with frustration.

"Oh, Mr. Soldier, you really shouldn't be doing that…" she hurried to the side of the bridge and then down to the river's shore. "Let me help you."

"I have it _fine,_" he retorted, recoiling from her. "Leave me alone."

Febronia argued, "But you might tear the stitching!"

"I said that I don't need your help!"

Standing there above him in silence, her eyes followed his sloppy movements as he reached behind his back, holding the bandage in one hand, and began to wrap the cloth around his chest with the other. He gave a sudden jerk, dropped the bandages, and gritted his teeth.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! Son of a—"

"I told you that was going to happen." She stooped over to pick up the bandage. "Just sit still."

"Go away already!" he tried to swipe the white fabric back, but Febronia sidestepped and he tumbled over the rock he had been sitting on. "Gaaaah!"

"You're not going to get any better being like this." Her voice was calm, but slightly stern. "Stop acting like a child."

His blazing eyes met hers in an instant, though he was still on the ground, and he picked himself back up, nostrils flaring. "What…did…you…"

"Quiet down now, understand?" Placing her hands on his shoulders, she seated him on the rock, much to his surprise, and gathered the bandages in both of her hands. "Just let me do this." She reached out for him.

"I don't need to be reprimanded by the likes of y—ouch!" He quickly turned his head, cheeks reddening with anger. "Not so hard!"

"Don't move your arm," she told him as she took his right elbow and lifted it. "That bandage you were trying to put around your back goes on your arm." Then she paused. "These are _clean_ bandages, right?"

She saw him roll his eyes. "_Yes._ I grabbed them before I came out here."

"All right," Febronia began to bandage his arm, coating it with a gel prior. "Just be still and I'll be done with this in a moment."

He blew a gust of air through his lips. "Whatever."

Febronia continued to wrap the bandage around his arm, one hand on his bicep. It was cold to the touch, and she could feel him shiver slightly. Up close, he was just as strong as he looked from far back. It was strange that he was so obedient, compared to how he had been treating her since he had come into her life, but it was a sense of gentleness that she felt. He wasn't cruel or harsh at all. When he was like this, he was like a completely different person. He allowed her to be near him—to touch him—and it made her feel slightly privileged.

There were some scars along his body, especially along his back, and she figured that they were battle scars from his time in the military. But he was so young, it was sad to see his body brutally damaged. Without thinking about the consequences, she brought her hand up to run it lightly across a scar that went from his shoulder blade down approximately four inches.

_I wonder if these hurt badly. It would be sad to see him in such pain. If it was anything like the state he was when in when he first came to the church…_ She wrapped the other arm in nearly the same fashion, her fingers cupping around his elbow as she secured the cloth into place. When she moved to the back, she reached around his chest, catching him off guard. She heard him breathe and he suddenly stiffened.

"W-What are you doing?" he asked, obviously feeling a little threatened by the closeness of her presence.

She took a step back, removing herself from him, and said, "I…I need to wrap this bandage from your shoulder to your side. C-Could you raise this arm up for me?"

"That's all you needed to ask," he scoffed. "This is already uncomfortable."

But if it was so bad, she thought, he would've violently shrugged her off like the plague. She tried again, stepping in to reach across his chest. She took the bandage in her other hand and began to wrap it around his chest and under his arm a few times, holding her breath. He was _indeed_ a strong man, the flesh of his body thick like sandpaper, yet gentle to her fingertips.

_How can you feel this way? You're a Realian, not a little girl, Febronia. What would Joachim say? What would __**Kevin**__ say?_

It was difficult for her when she had to move to his lower back, remembering what it was that had made him discover her presence in the first place. She closed her eyes, reaching around his midsection to circle the bandages around him with shaky fingers, and she was relieved when she finally hooked the fabric together. She exhaled as she finished with the bandage around his head and the gauge on the side of his swollen cheek.

Patting him on the shoulder with a pink face, she said, "There you are. Good as new."

"Thanks," he halfheartedly mumbled, standing up. "I'm going back inside now." Brushing past her with a limp, she focused her attention solely onto him, holding a hand to her mouth.

Febronia diverted her eyes, looking to the flowing river and she shuddered. It was a first, feeling this way, that was. She felt foolish and she felt naïve. But, most of all, she felt happy. It was a warm feeling she hadn't experienced before, not even with her sisters and Shion. _He allowed me to get next to him. He didn't push me away or scream at me._ Perhaps, things were changing.

But that wasn't just it. No, that wasn't it at all. She felt lightheaded and free, as though she could run around the forest with infinite energy. She could dance and sing and be merry. But then she felt silly even thinking such thoughts. It was…absurd. Even Kevin would think so. However, she had seen him, though it was quite unintended, and he wasn't yelling or flailing his arms like he normally did. No, he was…quite embarrassed himself. The way he jumped back into the water and the way he had hugged himself while he was shivering. She thought it was adorable, though it was such an odd thing to feel about a grown man.

And he had thanked her. Perhaps he hadn't really meant it, but he _did_ thank her. She had wanted, no, _needed_ to hear it. It was important to her. She _needed_ to know that she wasn't hated. She _needed_ to know that she was doing something right. She _needed_ to know that she was _needed._

Dusting herself off, Febronia gave a bright smile with sunny eyes. She would try to make him something to eat. Without help from the man in green, it would be all up to her.

She just hoped Luis would realize that within time.

\/\/\/

Welps, I hope that this chapter fulfilled some hopes. Heh, heh…Please review and tell me what you thought (minus flames, of course)!

ML


End file.
